


Wicked Hope

by hamm725



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Medieval, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Curse Breaking, Dream Smp, Everyone is Magic essentially, How Do I Tag, I don’t know how to use this site, I’m done tagging, Karlnapity ?? haven’t decided but probably, Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Minor Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Vaguely Medieval ??, how am i supposed to tag, magic George, send help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamm725/pseuds/hamm725
Summary: Dream was so close to finally being a knight. Unfortunately, it got pushed back; he must prove his loyalty by cleaning out the magic people who (supposedly) reside in a small town not too far from his childhood home. He takes it, knowing he won’t find anything.————George is perfectly happy to hide refugees in the apothecary basement with Wilbur and Phil. When rumors of a knight float through town, everyone is in danger. Especially when they find out they’ve been spending quality time with him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter One: A Visit to The Bakery and Then Curses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. It is loosely based off of the characters from the DreamSMP, and if any of the CC’s in the fic express discomfort with it, I will change as needed or delete!

GEORGE GRINNED as he packed up the last few candles; he’d just finished an order of candles, all of them wax with intricate etchings of rose petals in them. He briefly wondered how he’d survive without magic; his candles certainly wouldn’t have that extra flair, that was for sure. 

The noble family had offered just over two hundred gold coins for the one hundred and seventy-five candles. George would’ve been a fool to not accept, and he had spent the last week making the candles and then using his magic to etch the rose petals. He generally tried to keep them as normal as possible, but the thought of doing the uncountable engravings by hand made him shudder. 

Once the candles had been packed up, George glanced at his watch; it was hardly noon. He laced his boots up and grabbed the paper he had scribbled his To-Do list on; he was going to stop by the bakery to see Niki and order some bread to pick up later, and then he was going down to visit Sapnap for some books. After, he had to pick up more tallow and wax at the post office, and then he needed to visit Phil. He tugged his coat on and shoved the note into his pocket, making sure that the other paper he needed was there as well, and then set out down the streets, keeping close to the shops and small homes above them. Kids ran around him, darting past the carts and avoiding angry adults. George turned left and a smile grew on his face at the sight of the bakery.

This particular bakery was owned by a young woman named Niki Sommer, who had inherited it at seventeen and had continued to own it for the last two years. The bakery made all of the treats one could possibly imagine; tarts and cookies, cakes and bread. Niki’s bakery was made out of stone and dark wood, with unlit lanterns hanging from the eaves. Flowers and vines twisted through them as well, and moss had begun to grow on the walls of the building. The backyard was fenced in, with a small stable for her horse, and a chicken coop. Just outside of the walls of their town was her bee farm, where she and her apprentice Tubbo would collect honey for her treats. George helped them every other week and was paid for with the wax taken from the hives. Fire puffed up from the chimney and the glass windows were propped open. 

George opened the door and Niki turned towards him with a smile. “George! How are you today?”

“Absolutely wonderful. I just finished another order for a noble family, and was hoping to place an order for bread?”  
Niki nodded and brushed flour off her apron; today, she was wearing a blue dress, and her pink hair was pulled back in a braid. “If you give me, oh, an hour or so, I can have a fresh batch ready? If you’re in a rush, I’ve got some ready right now.” 

“No rush,” George said, looking around the bakery. She had flowers in pots on the windowsill, all pretty shades of blue and pink. The inside of the bakery smelled like bread and honey, as it always did. “In fact, anything I can do to help while I’m here?”

“Of course! If you could spare the time, a quick sweep of the floor would be excellent. I had a rush of people coming after church, and most of their feet were awfully dirty.” 

George nodded and accepted the broom Niki handed him. He propped open the door, letting in even more noise of the crowd outside, starting to sweep the dirt outside. Niki went into the back, saying something about helping Tubbo with the chickens. 

As he swept behind the counter, wondering if Niki would get upset if he took a honey tart (he knew she wouldn’t, and he would pay her of course, but still…) when there was a knock. He looked up in surprise and blinked at the man standing in front of the counter. 

The ridiculously tall man, wearing a disgusting shade of yellow, smiled down at him. “Hello. I was wondering if you had any bread?” 

George briefly wondered if he should wait for Niki to come back, or even Tubbo. Despite the amount of time he spent here, he had never actually sold anything; the last time he’d tried to bake something he’d set a fire and had been banned from touching the oven ever again. He just swept sometimes and helped with the bees. 

“Yes,” he smiled, setting the broom against the wall and wiping his hands on his shirt. “What exactly are you looking for?”

The man leaned his elbows on the counter separating them and shrugged with a small smile on his face. George wondered why the man was staring at him so intently and shifted, slightly uncomfortable. He knew most everyone in town, even the merchants who drifted through every week. Despite the size, the population remained small. He hadn’t ever seen this man. “Whatever you’d recommend, mister…?”

“My name’s George.” 

“George.” The man repeated, his smile growing. George smiled back, feeling wildly uncomfortable. The candle-maker turned his back and grabbed a loaf of bread, the darker colored one that he normally bought, and wrapped it up quickly.  
“How many do you want?” George asked. 

“Just the one. Do you think I could get one of these honey tarts?” The man pointed over to the same treats George had been considering a few moments ago. 

“Absolutely,” George grabbed one and handed it to the man, quickly calculating the total. “That’ll be four dollars.” 

He pulled out the coins and placed them on the counter without a second thought. 

George reached for them and placed them with the small jar Niki kept her coins in, and when the customer opened his mouth to say something, Tubbo ran in, his brown hair wild and eyes wide. 

“Georgeeee!” He sounded panicked. “George, the chickens got out and Niki’s upstairs what do I do?” 

The customer laughed and George gaped. There was a small clicking noise and the teenager turned around, eyes wide. 

A chicken stood behind him, staring blankly. It turned it’s head and Tubbo screamed, running at George. “What do I do?!” He yelled, hiding behind the older man. 

“Tubbo, it’s a chicken.” George said, laughing. “It’s not gonna--”

He’d forgotten that the door was open; the chicken noticed. It’s beady eyes gleamed and then it sprinted towards the open door, and George shrieked in surprise as it ran through his leads; Tubbo jumped onto his back, causing further confusion as George stumbled under the extra weight. 

“Close the door!” George yelled at the customer, and the man jumped over the chicken and slammed it shut. The chicken began to peck angrily at his ankles, but he just laughed and picked the bird up, carrying it over to Tubbo. 

“Thanks!” Tubbo chirped, gingerly accepting the bird into his arms. “At least only two got out.” 

“Two?” George turned his head. “Tubbo, where’s the other one?”

“It went upstairs!” Tubbo’s eyes went wide. “Oh no.” 

He turned around and sprinted farther into the bakery, disappearing. George sighed. “Thanks for helping with the door.” He told the man. “Tubbo’s a good kid, but he freaks out around animals. Most of the time he likes them too much to focus but chickens...they just make him nervous.” 

The man chuckled. “Don’t worry about it George. Thanks for the bread.” He nodded. “Tell Niki I said hello.” 

George blinked, but the man was already gone, whistling as he swung the bag of bread back and forth. He disappeared behind a cart and then didn’t reappear. 

“George, please please please don’t tell Niki I let the chickens escape.” Tubbo said, poking his head in; he had a chicken in each arm, struggling to hold them. 

“I won’t, just get them back in the coop.” George sighed, and Tubbo grinned before running into the backyard. Niki came down a few minutes later, a confused smile on her face.

“Any reason Tubbo was carrying my chickens back outside?”

“I promised not to tell.” 

She laughed and nodded. “Of course, of course. Well, thank you so much for sweeping, George, but I’ll let you go. Unless you’re looking for some more work?” 

“No, I’m off to visit Sapnap. I wanted to let you know that a customer came in though. He told me to tell you hello? He didn’t leave a name.” 

“Was he wearing a green tunic?” Niki asked, and George blinked. 

“No, an ugly shade of yellow.” 

“Ahh, okay. Thanks so much for serving him.” Niki said. George nodded. 

“I’ll be back in an hour for the bread.” He said, and the young woman nodded. 

Once George entered back into the main part of the town, he noticed the man from the bakery again; he was talking with a young girl, a smile on his face as they split the honey tart between them. The two of them looked close enough to each other that they were most likely siblings, and it made George smile that the man was sharing the tart with her. He had no clue who the girl was either, though, and that confused him some. Perhaps they were new in town. A relative of Niki’s?

George shrugged it off; if they stayed, he’d know them eventually. Sapnap’s forge was several streets away from Niki’s, despite being on the same border wall of the town. As he approached the building, he was surprised to hear aggressive shouting; Sapnap worked alone, and he wouldn’t ever yell like that at a customer. 

He opened the door without knocking and blinked in surprise at the scene before him. 

“Tommy, if you don’t get down off the ceiling I will throw things at you until you fall down!” Sapnap shouted, waving a large hammer around threateningly. 

Tommy was clinging to the ceiling, sitting on one of the rafters. He had a bandage wrapped around his left hand, and the biggest grin on his face. Sapnap was standing underneath him, the hammer held in his hands. THe fire was loud and despite the open windows, the room was stiflingly hot. 

“George! George, tell Sapnap to stop threatening to kill me!” Tommy yelled when he saw the man standing there.

“Sapnap, think of how mad Phil and Wilbur would be if you killed Tommy. Imagine the loss of free burn-cures.” George grinned and Sapnap groaned. 

“I hate you George.” He muttered, tossing the hammer on a table. “Fine! I won’t kill you this time. But if you sneak in one more time, I swear to the Gods above I will kill you.” Sapnap pointed an angry finger up at the boy, who smirked. 

“You said that last time!” He taunted, now swinging his feet back and forth. 

“Tommy. Get out of here.” Sapnap said, and Tommy shrugged before jumping off the rafter. He drifted to the ground slowly, gently landing on his feet. He smiled happily at Sapnap and patted George on the shoulder as he passed. 

“I’ll let Connor know that you’ll have the materials in on Wednesday!” Tommy said before slamming the door shut. 

Sapnap sighed and then looked at George with a smile. “Now that the gremlin is gone, how are you? What brings you down to the forge?”

George shrugged, walking closer to his friend. Sapnap waved his hands and muttered the Old Language under his breath and the fires lowered, heat lowering with them. It was more a friendlier flame, crackling happily. “Not much. I was out at the bakery and then figured I could visit you while I waited for Niki to bake the bread.”

Sapnap nodded and then grinned. “Hey, I can go with you! I need to get some bread too. I’m almost out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” George smiled briefly and then glanced over at the open windows; in the forge, they faced the border wall. A small alleyway was in between the wall and the forge. Sapnap noticed this and stood, closing them before turning back to his friend. 

“What is it?” He asked, and George sighed. 

“Do you think I could borrow your books?” George whispered. Sapnap sat down across from him. 

“Of course you can. Most of them came through you anyways, only right you get to read them too. Any specific reason?”

“I need to reread what I can for healing spells and curse-trapping. There’s a group of refugees coming in, and one of them’s sick. They sent me this list of symptoms.” George pulled out a paper from his coat and slid it across the table. Sapnap glanced over the scribbles and paled. 

“George, that sounds a lot like…” 

“Yeah.” George said grimly, adjusting his coat. “It’s just a venenum curse though.”

The blacksmith folded his hands together, his leg bouncing. “Please don’t tell me you’d be attempting this on your own.” 

“Of course not,” George scoffed. “I’m not that stupid. Phil’s gonna do most of it, and Wilbur and I will be there to help.” 

“George, getting rid of a curse is tricky business. You guys have to be sure that you destroy it. There’s a reason curses were outlawed long before magic.” 

“We have a curse box ready. Phil’s dealt with curses before, and Wilbur has studied them extensively. Wil’s even had a curse on him. I’m the only one that hasn’t had any contact with them before--”

“That means the curse will want to latch onto you next.” Sapnap interrupted, his brow furrowed. “George, you need more experienced people to deal with it, if it really is a curse. Phil and Wilbur are good starts, but we need more. Especially because all these symptoms lineup with a basiliscus curse.” 

George stiffened. “Those curses haven’t been recorded in two hundred years. It’s just a venenum curse, don’t worry.” He didn’t voice the fear that it was indeed the curse Sapnap had said it was. 

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Sapnap rose. “I’ll go grab the books. Give me just a moment.” 

George nodded and sat there as Sapnap left the forge; without the man in the room, the fires went down to embers. He came back a few minutes later, the leather-wrapped books held tightly in his hands. “Here.” Sapnap said, passing them over. “All the books I have on curses and trappings. You should call--”

“We’re not calling Callahan.” George said firmly. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, and you know we’re only supposed to call on him in times of danger anyways. Dealing with a venenum curse isn’t dangerous.” 

Sapnap sighed deeply and nodded. “Don’t hesitate to call on me. I know my abilities aren’t rooted in healing or anything, but having more people with magic dims the curse’s power.”

George nodded and rose to his feet, picking up the books. He had to get them home as soon as possible and then pick up his order from Niki. “I think I’m going to take these home and then stop by Niki’s. I can walk you part way there?” 

“Sounds great to me.” Sapnap smiled gently and the two got up, closing the door behind them. People were still bustling around, merchants shouting what they could sell; paper and books, new shoes and tunics. The two chatted until they reached the place they parted; Sapnap waved and headed towards the bakery while George went back towards his own shop. 

He opened the door and was happy to see that a few people were milling about, waiting for him to open. He put the books in the very back, and made quite a few coins; after the small group had left, he took the books and placed them gently under his pillow. He locked the door of his shop and went towards the bakery, wondering briefly if Sapnap would still be there. He touched the paper listing symptoms in his pocket, the worry wearing away at him.  
The symptoms were eerily similar to a basiscilius curse, he knew his friend was right. The only issue was that those types of curses had been outlawed over two hundred years ago, even before magic itself was outlawed. No one knew how to do those curses except Callahan and Bad, and the two of them wouldn’t ever use them. Phil had interacted with one once, when Wilbur had gotten in a scrape and ended up opening a curse box. But even then, Bad had still lived in town; he’d shown Phil how to transfer it back and then moved away a few months later. 

George shook away the thoughts and moved to the right to avoid a group of young boys, shouting about a knight being in town. That made him worry more. Knights were sworn into the Queen’s Guild and if they saw (or even heard) of magic happening somewhere then they had to kill whoever it was that was enacting the magic. The group of refugees from the neighboring kingdom coming in with curses wouldn’t help if there genuinely was a knight in town. 

“George, welcome back!” Tubbo smiled wide and Niki nodded in greeting. “We’ve got the bread right here.” 

“Thank you so much,” George accepted the loaves and then glanced at the honey tarts. Niki caught that and laughed. 

“Take one, George. For dealing with the escaped chickens.” 

Tubbo’s eyes widened and his head whirled over. “How did you know?”

“I’m not stupid, Tubbo. You only scream like that when chickens escape.” 

He spluttered and turned red as George took the tart, waving goodbye and heading back towards his own home. The crowds had finally started to thin out. As the night continued to approach, he could feel more and more worry start to enter his brain. The refugees were fast approaching, and he had to be ready. Phil had been working on the curse-box with Wilbur ever since they had sent word forward that they believed one young girl had a curse on her. George was the only one who wasn’t prepared, and he had to be. They refused to bring anyone else in, and Callahan didn’t want to be involved unless absolutely necessary. 

George had eaten through the entire tart by the time he was entering his store. It was four o’clock; he went upstairs and cut a piece of bread, swiping some butter on it and then stretching out on his bed to flip through the book on curses. 

It was written in the Old Language, which made George’s eyes hurt. He’d always struggled with reading and writing it, and the fact that he knew he had to go through three books of it made his stomach turn. 

~~~~~

The sun sank below the horizon and the night crowd came out, becoming slightly rowdy. George continued to read by candlelight and keep an eye on the time. 

When the clock rang out at midnight, he closed the book; he was halfway through the third and hoped that he hadn’t missed any important information. George slipped his boots back on and grabbed a small bag; he tucked a loaf of bread and then grabbed a few candles before tugging on his coat. He touched the list again and chewed on his lip as he left his house. George walked down towards Niki’s bakery, wishing that he knew for sure whether or not a knight was truly in town. 

“George! George, over here!” A voice called out, and he turned to see Wilbur standing in between two homes, the small alleyway giving off an awful stench. 

“Wilbur, hey,” George smiled thinly as he walked over. “Where’s Phil?” 

“He’s ahead of us, bringing them in.” 

“Which one of you has the curse box?” George asked, shifting. The two of them headed towards the boundary wall, passing the tavern; the door was open and music spilled out of the building. Wilbur cast a longing glance at the musicians but they kept going. 

“I’ve got it in my pocket,” he said, patting it. “George do you really think it’s just a venenoumus curse?” 

He hesitated. “No. I spoke to Sapnap about it and he thinks it's a basicilius curse. I think he’s right.”

Wilbur frowned. They were close to the boundary wall now, and they’d have to slip through the gates to get outside. George wished briefly that they had invited Sapnap; his speciality was fire and heat, and the fact that they’d have to light the candles would be annoying. 

They watched as the night guards walked past, looking incredibly bored; living on the very edges of the kingdom had its perks. “Let’s go,” Wilbur whispered, and the two darted through the wide gates, slipping through easily. Phil’s magic had left a mark, it seemed, and the bars moved around them easily.  
Once outside the gates, they followed the path carts had made and walked as fast as they could. The tall grass and trees lining the road whispered gently in the night. George caught the silvery flash of fae creatures, feeling their language sweep into his ears. He wanted to dance, he realized. There was music somewhere in the forest, and the beat was nearly tangible.

“Don’t listen to the whispers, George,” Wilbur muttered, and George nodded. The fae retreated, soft snarls leaving his thoughts. “We’re close to them. Look, over there, you can see the lanterns.” He pointed to the right and George saw that he was correct; a group of people, no more than ten, were huddled around a lantern. At the front was Phil, his face set in a frown. 

“C’mon,” George whispered, and the two walked into the grass, avoiding the creatures that nipped at their ankles in the dark. A particularly painful sting made Wilbur hiss in pain, but neither of them looked down; looking them in the eyes made it incredibly difficult to move. 

“Phil!” Wilbur said, waving his arm above his head. The man tensed and then relaxed at the two of them. 

“George, Wilbur, thank Gods. It’s the curse, it’s gotten worse. The girl, she can’t move.” He pointed down and they looked down, where a young girl was laying in the grass, paralyzed. “Give me the box. George, take the rest of them towards the wall please. Then come back as quick as you can. We don’t want any non magical people around for the curse to latch on to.” 

Everyone started moving; George shepherded the refugees towards the border wall, having to whisper a calming spell to the girls elder sister, who was breathing too quickly to be healthy. The rest followed him, quiet as they could be. “Stay here.” He told them, and they all nodded. He ran through the grass back to Wilbur and Phil, who had opened the curse box and were preparing to rid the curse. George joined them, lighting the candles he had brought and putting them in the shape of a teardrop. 

“Say the incantation when I point to you. We have to say it at separate times. Do not mess up. George, you’re the only one of us who hasn’t had direct contact with curses. If you feel any sort of tingling on your neck, tell me. Immediately.” Phil said, his voice thin. George nodded, and Wilbur stood behind him. The shape they made was a triangle, and as Phil started muttering the words to remove the curse, Wilbur joined in soon after. When the man pointed at George, he joined in as well. The rustling of the grass stopped as the fae listened. 

The girl began to shake, her eyes closing and her mouth opening. A trail of black fog began to spill out, and Phil opened the curse box, using his hands to move the smoke of the candles around the girl. The black fog tightened around the girls arms and Phil frowned, shaping his hand in a claw as the candle smoke wrestled with the black fog. Wilbur noticed this and began to incant with stronger words, so George did too. He was worried; Phil looked nervous and so did Wilbur. Why were they nervous?

“It’s not a venenum curse,” Phil said through gritted teeth. “It’s a basiliscus curse. I don’t have an incantation for that.” 

The younger mens eyes widened; they kept incanting, because if they stopped then the curse would latch onto one of them. “Yes, keep incanting. I’m going to have to touch the curse. Do not stop incanting.” Phil said, starting up his own incanting again. He waved his hand and the candle smoke tightened around the black fog. The girl was shaking hard, her mouth foaming slightly. Phil leaned towards the fog, holding his hand out. That seemed to interest it, and it slithered towards him. 

Phil kept incanting, and the fog reached out for him. George’s heart was going so fast he wondered if he was going to die; if Phil didn’t do it right then the curse would latch onto him, and with it being released from the original curse bearer it would be stronger than before. 

Phil shouted the last words of the incarnation and threw himself forwards, slamming the black fog inside of the box, tightening the lid. Wilbur flicked his wrist and uttered a locking curse. 

The girl coughed, sitting straight up. Her eyes were hazy as she looked around. “Where’s Cecilia?” She muttered, and then she fell backwards. 

Phil was panting, the box shaking in his hands before going still. “Wil, carry her to the others. I’m going to bury this box. George, go with him please. Take them home. They’ll have to stay for a few days so I can keep an eye on her. In the apothecary.” 

The two nodded and left, leaving the candles with Phil. When they approached the refugees, carrying the girl, her sister (who George assumed was Cecilia) gasped and covered her face with her hands. 

“Is she..?” A man whispered, and Wilbur shook his head. 

“She’s alive, but exhausted. The curse was in her for a while. You’ll have to stay behind for a few days so we can keep an eye on her, but we’ll get you out of here as soon as possible. I need everyone to take a sip of this. It’s invisibility, brewed by the finest potion-maker we’ve got. We’ll fit through the bars of the gate.” 

He handed the girl to the man, and then uncorked a bottle filled with pale silvery-blue liquid. They passed it around, all taking a small drink. George enjoyed the cool taste of blueberry, and was surprised (as always) by his body disappearing. Wilbur was the only one visible now. “Follow me.” He said, and led the way towards the gate. 

They got through with no problem; Wilbur was known to walk around at night in town, so when someone saw him they paid him no attention; if he stared at the moon for an awfully long time with the door of the apothecary open, well, that was just Wilbur being Wilbur. 

The inside of the apothecary was dark and crowded. George bumped against someone and hissed when another invisible being stepped on his foot. Wilbur lit a candle and led the way into the back room, opening the trapdoor in the corner. “George, take this from me and take a drink. Everyone needs to take a sip. It’s the counter-potion.” 

George gripped Wilburs wrist tightly, signaling that it was him trying to take the potion; the man took a small sip and grimaced at the harsh taste of lemon, his limbs reappearing as his body shivered. “I need one person to take the potion.” 

There were touches on George’s arms and he stumbled before grasping an invisible hand on his arm. “You’re taking it,” He said to them and fingers took the potion. He watched as they raised it and then sipped, a young man with blue hair appearing. He handed it back to George and the process repeated itself; hands would grab him and he’d choose at random. Once they appeared they'd go down into the hidden room below them. 

Wilbur grabbed a lantern and went downstairs. “George, in the kitchen there’s a bucket of water and a bag of bread. Bring them here please.” 

George nodded and went up the small, circular staircase, flicking the match against the small paper he carried in his pocket and lighting a candle. When he did so, a scream wrangled itself out of his mouth. He clapped his hands over his mouth to stop it and then narrowed his eyes at the boys in front of him. 

“What are you doing?!” He hissed. Tommy drew himself up, his arms crossed. A bandage was plastered against the side of his face, a new wound from somewhere. 

“I live here, stupid.” 

George groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “You idiot! Aren’t you like eleven or something?”

“I am sixteen! I am an apprentice!” 

“Tommy get in bed.” George snapped. “You absolute idiot. How long have you been sitting on the stairs with that stupid dagger?” 

“How d’you know I’ve got my dagger on me?” Tommy jutted his chin in the air, eyes glinting in the dim light. He was wearing baggy pants and thick socks, with a thin white shirt pulled over his frame. The dagger sheath was hidden very badly in the waistband of his pants. 

George was getting frustrated; if Tommy wasn’t Phil’s son (and one of the most promising wizards that had shown up in a long time), he would’ve punted him into the sun a long time ago. “I can see it, idiot. Now get in your bed before I kill you.” He pushed past the blond and scooped up the bucket, grabbing the bag of bread and heading towards the staircase, pointedly ignoring the younger cries of unfairness, and complaining about all the wizards nowadays being so murderous. 

“Wil, take the bucket,” George grunted and passed it down the ladder, the brunet frowning. 

“Why’d it take you so long?” He muttered as the refugees cupped their hands and drank from the bucket. The bread was being passed down as George replied. 

“Freaking Tommy. He’s awake, by the way. Pretty sure he was sat on the stairs, with that stupid dagger.” 

Wilbur huffed angrily. “Right, of course. I’ll talk to Tommy. You can go home if you’re tired, George. Phil should be here soon, and if he’s not back by morning I’ll fetch you and make you look for him with us.” 

“Sounds like a plan. If you need me for any reason, get me.” George nodded and then stood up, brushing himself off. He rubbed at his eyes and then left through the backdoor of the apothecary, drawing his coat coser around him; the alleyways were windy tonight, and the waxing crescent moon didn’t provide much light. Someone grumbled at him as he walked past, but George ignored them. He was exhausted, both from the magic and from being up far past his bedtime. Even the tavern was closing up, kicking out the few remaining inhabitants and the musicians leaving. George walked past darkened shops, the homes shuffled between them or shoved above quiet. 

He opened the door and then closed it behind him, stumbling up the stairs. Tomorrow would be better, he knew. As he kicked his shoes off and changed as quickly as he could, George told himself that tomorrow would be better. He’d spend most of his day either at home or in the apothecary with Phil and Wilbur. He would deal with the possible knight later.


	2. Dream Goes Into Town, Lies a Little, and Then Meets Everyone While a Little Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fiction. It is loosely based off of the characters from the DreamSMP, and if any of the CC’s in the fic express discomfort with it, I will change as needed or delete!

THERE WAS an incessant knocking. It just kept going. Wouldn’t she figure out that the reason Dream wasn’t answering was because he was trying to sleep?

“Go away, Drista, for Gods’ sake!” He yelled after another few minutes of her fist rapping at the door. The noise stopped and he smiled, pushing his face into his pillow. His mind drifted back into black, and just as he felt consciousness slipping away -

“Clay, if you don’t get up I swear to the Gods above I’m telling Ma! Also, I’m burning your clothes and selling your sword!” 

Dream groaned, yelling wordlessly in frustration. He yanked the covers off of him, ignoring the pounding in the back of his head. He pulled the door open and glared down at his younger sister, who smiled innocently back up at him. “You’re the absolute worst.” He muttered, and she shrugged. 

“At least I’m not a secret drunkard. I don’t appreciate you making me drag you home last night, by the way. Very un-knight of you. Now hurry up, Ma said you have to cook breakfast.” She turned on her heel and went down the hall, her feet pounding a rhythm on the floorboards. The man rolled his eyes and turned around, closing his door and dressing quickly in the cheapest clothes he owned. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging roughly on the knots; he’d had to fight his Ma to get her to not chop it off, because she insisted that he looked like one of those refugees from the war. 

He didn’t tell his Ma that he liked it because of that reason. The less he looked like a knight, the better he could source out any magic who hid in town. 

Dream walked down the stairs, jumping off the last three and into the kitchen; the fireplace held an already boiling pot of water, and he stuck his tongue out at his sister. “Get to cooking, Clay.” she said, and then took out her embroidery and started stitching prissily. He rolled his eyes but began to cut the fish his brother had sent home from his travels; he was an explorer, employed by a king in a neighboring kingdom. He didn’t visit anymore, but sent home packages of expensive clothes for Ma and Drista, exotic foods for them to try. His family didn’t know where he was employed, but Dream did, and if he thought about it too long it would upset him. Mostly he accepted the gifts and sent back short letters. Mostly he didn’t think about his brother. His annoying, useless brother, who -

“You’re going to cut yourself if you keep smacking the knife down like that,” his Ma’s voice shook him out of his thoughts and his hands stilled. The blade had been dangerously close to his finger. 

“Thanks.” He muttered. He slid the fish onto the small plate, pushed over the fire and pulled the pot of water off, pouring it into the drinking bucket. He scooped out three cups and dropped tea leaves into them, handing the first two to his sister and mother. 

The kitchen was quiet as Ma sipped her tea and Dream cooked. He glanced at his sister and wondered when Ma would begin to pressure marriage. Gods know she wouldn’t give up on his when he was younger; she’d only stopped when Dream had been sent home from the capital a month ago. 

“Stop thinking so hard. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Drista said, not looking up from her embroidery. He rolled his eyes and flicked water at her. Ma glanced at him sharply. 

The rest of breakfast passed in silence. When the plates had been deposited into a pile, and the maid had arrived for the day, Dream rose from the table and laced up his old boots. “I’m headed into town for the day. I’ll be back late.” 

“Be safe,” Ma said, sipping her tea. “Make sure you don’t get caught. Gods know those peasants in town are terrible enough without being magic.”

Drista rolled her eyes; she was firm in her belief that no one in the town was magic. Dream wasn’t so sure, and Ma was just annoyed that he posed as a commoner for most of the day. (He knew she was annoyed at his refusal to discuss why he’d been sent home as well, but she’d never bring it up.)

He pulled his hair back as he set off towards the woods, knowing he’d have to enter from the southern border wall. He’d grown up to the east of this town, closer to the city, but he still couldn’t risk being recognized. He’d spent plenty of time practicing his swordsmanship near town. 

The sun was rising, the trees dancing slightly in the wind. It was getting chillier, October days dragging on. As Dream walked through the tall grass, something stung his ankle. He looked down and frowned; nothing was there. As he looked up, a soft crunch underneath made him glance back down. 

A candle, burnt halfway, cracked underneath his foot. Dream bent down and picked up a piece of the wax; it was cold. Telling even more, it was a wax candle, not tallow. Someone with money had candles out in the fields?

Dream looked around him, trying to find any sign of people; nobles, wealthy merchants, wealthy children, the signs were nearly always obvious. Commoners were better at hiding their tracks. Plus, this path led towards the neighboring kingdom, the one they were at war with; refugees were much better than this with hiding their existence. 

He sighed and tightened his ponytail, eyes gazing through the grass. Nothing, no sign of anyone except the candle. He pocketed the wax piece and went to the gates, which were open. He strolled in and looked around. Niki’s bakery was close, and he could always stop by. The honey tarts he and Drista had gotten yesterday had been excellent.

The Sommers had baked the bread for his family since as long as he could remember. He hadn’t interacted with them much since he was eight and left for knighthood, but he knew that if he told Niki who he was she would help him.

It was still in the early hours of the morning, and people were just starting to wake up. Shops began to open, but the bustle of Sunday was gone. Apprentices went to work, and Dream watched as an extremely tall boy with black hair walked quickly past him. He was even taller than Dream, his hair curly and slightly shaggy. It was plastered to his forehead and the boy looked nervous; he couldn’t have been older than seventeen. 

Dream watched as he looked over his shoulder., his eyes flitting around. Dream’s heart froze when they made eye contact for a split second and the boys’ irises were two different colors; for a moment, the blond could’ve sworn that they were green and red (a sign of magic, oh Gods, were there magical people here?) but then they changed to green and brown. 

The boy disappeared from view. Dream frowned, his fingers flitting over the dagger tucked into his waistband. He continued towards the bakery, the small puffs of smoke falling out of the chimney. The sign said open, so he pushed the door open and grinned when he saw Niki, arranging flowers in vases. 

“Hullo! How are you this morning?” Niki smiled widely at him. Dream shrugged.

“As well as I can be. How are you this morning?” He moved over to the young woman and scooped the flowers out of her hands, putting them in the vases himself. The baker glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before going around the counter. 

“Perfectly splendid. What can I get for you today, sir?”

Dream ordered two honey tarts, wishing that Drista was here to share. He gave her a few coins and left just as a boy walked in, a large smile on his face as he spoke about bees. Once outside, the man walked towards the center of the town. A fountain marked the center, a high amount of taxes having paid for it before he was born. A few people had set up carts, despite the few visitors here. Before the war, the town had been bustling every day; it had a prime location, only minutes away from a big river, and if you followed the paths made eons ago you would walk right through. Then the borders had been put up, and the travelers had left. 

Dream sat down on a bench that was starting to fall apart and took a bite of the honey tart, looking around at the people mulling around. It was mostly adults, with most young children being sent to bigger cities or working on the farms in the area. Apprentices and journeymen ran errands, sometimes stopping and having quick conversations. The two that caught his eye the most was a tall, gangly blond boy, his arm thrown around the boy who had walked into the bakery. They were loud, shouting something about candles, which piqued his interest. He looked over and a man who seemed very familiar was arguing with them, his hands flailing wildly and anger clear on his face. 

Dream shoved the rest of his first honey tart in his mouth and walked over. If he befriended someone, he might get more information. And that was all that had to do with him walking over to the three, nothing to do with the attractiveness of the angry man. 

“I swear, Tommy, don’t you have anything better to do ? I’ll tell Phil and Wilbur! Don’t you dare think I won't! Gods know that they aren’t happy with you staying up last night, and - Tubbo, stop hiding behind Tommy! I’ll tell your parents too, don’t worry!” 

The brunette groaned. “George, come on. It wasn’t even that bad!” 

“Yeah, Gogy, not bad!”

“You broke seventeen of my wax candles!” The man (George, Dream assumed) sounded furious. Dream pretended to be interested in the bookstore next to the candle shop. “Why aren’t you guys at the bakery, or the armourer, or bothering Phil? Go annoy Wilbur!” 

“Wil doesn’t get nearly as mad as you though, Gogy.” The blond said earnestly, and George let out a loud groan of frustration. 

“Go away before I kill you!” He snapped, and the brunette grabbed the tallers arm and dragged him towards the bakery. George let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. 

Dream looked over at him and then made a decision; he needed information, and the people who lived in town were the best place to get it. Especially if this guy was as explosive as he seemed. “Kids, am I right?” He said, and the other looked up at him sharply. 

His face startled Dream. It was beautiful, looking up at him with a piercing glare and startlingly pale skin. He was struck by a sudden snippet of poetry he’d heard, years ago;

“ Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit  
Is poorly imitated after you;  
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,  
And you in Grecian tires are painted new. ”

This man was Adonis, his face painted in slight confusion and closed off. Somehow, he seemed familiar.

“Excuse me?” He asked. Dream’s mind sped through thoughts; did he use his real name, Clay, or would that lead them to his family? Did he use Dream, the name he used as a knight? Or would that lead whatever mages that lived here to leave town?

“I’m Dream.” He smiled, extending his hand. “I live on a farm, outside the southern border.”

There was a calculating look in those surprisingly pretty eyes that made Dream fidget. “I’m George. Pleasure to meet you, Dream. Welcome to Middlesbrough. Is your family new to the area?”

Dream nodded. “It’s just me and my sister. And my cat. She catches the mice in the house for me.” 

“How wonderful,” George said. It was oddly detached, and Dream hated that he wanted to change that. He had a mission here. He only had a year to accomplish it, and the sooner it got done the sooner he could get knighted and finally make his family proud.

Dream watched as the smaller man looked over towards where the teens had run off. “Are you the candlemaker?” He asked, smiling as George looked at him. 

“Yes, I am. Are you interested?”

The blond nodded, and George sighed. “Come on in, then. I’ve got plenty of candles, tallow and wax.” 

The two of them walked inside, and the shop smelled faintly of lavender and wax. George brought out a few cheap candles, mostly tallow; Dream was slightly offended before remembering that he was supposed to be a peasant.

He purchased three of them and then stood there awkwardly. George waited for a moment before sighing again (he seemed to do that a lot). “Anything else I can help you with, Dream?”

“No, sorry. Thanks for the candles. See you around, George.” He waved and went outside, heading back towards the fountain. He began to eat the second honey tart, his mind racing. George was different than how he thought he would be; angry people were prone to mistakes, to slip-up and reveal things. But once George had seen him he’d closed off, gone cold. Put that with the boy with the multicolored eyes (Dream knew it was green and red, he’d been trained to look for it), something was going on here. He had to find out who was magic, and he had to capture them. 

~~~~~

Dream had spent the day wandering through the forest, trying to make it seem like he was farming. He’d tucked the candles away in a knot of a tree towards his house and then laid in the flattened grass near the Arlingford river. Willow trees leaned down over the water, and he watched them move. Dream felt...tired. It was like there was singing, somewhere over the river. He closed his eyes, the sun warming him to his bones. It was far past lunch, based on the sun and his stomach. The grass tickled his bare arms, and the river’s sound was better than any lullaby. He felt himself falling into a lull, sleepiness fogging up his mind. The ground was so soft, and that singing...it was paradisiacal. Unearthly. He thought back to his childhood, before his Ma had become closed off. Exploring these woods with his brother. The strange things that flickered in the corner of his view. 

There was a low humming in his ears. Something in his mind changed it to join us, Clay, come and dance. 

Something hard touched his face. Something cold flicked his neck. Something pinched his arms. The grass was suddenly hurting him, poking through the fabric and scratching at his skin. Dream sat up and slapped the back of his neck. The music was gone, and he was no longer tired. 

He pulled the dagger out and looked around, getting onto his feet. “Hello?” He called out. “Who’s out here?”

Something cold went over his foot and he kicked his leg out, throwing the dagger down at the grass. 

A snake with dull markings hissed at him, shaking their head and then disappearing into the undergrowth close to the river. Dream felt cold. Unsafe. He picked up his things and left, headed towards the wall. It was late enough that it wouldn’t be strange for him to go into town and get a drink, right? 

He didn’t care. Maybe he was just a lazy farmer. 

Apprentices who lived with their families were walking home, and he saw the two who had been bothering George walking together form the bakery. The taverns were getting busier, and he headed towards the candle shop. Maybe he could invite George out for a drink. Did farmers do that? Maybe he should’ve done some research into how farmers live. 

Dream sighed and adjusted his hair, feeling the strands that had fallen out brush against his neck. He had a year to find magic in this town, and then he could become an actual knight. Just a year. At most, maybe two mages. Easy as pie.

He glanced around and then stiffened; the boy with the multicolored eyes was there. His hair was wilder than this morning, shimmering dark in the sun. It looked obsidian, but one side of his hair was seemingly gray somehow. Dream watched, taking slower steps. The boy was fidgeting, his fingers twisting around. He stared intently, waiting for the boy to look around. He did. 

Dream’s heart skipped a beat when the boy made eye contact with him, and his eyes shone green and red. 

“Ranboo, ready to go?” A monotone voice said, and the boy looked away. Dream followed the sound and saw a tall man with long pink hair waving towards the mage. The boy (Ranboo, what kind of a name is that?) smiled awkwardly and allowed the man to sling an arm around him and walk him away, towards the north. The knight was surprised to see that this “Ranboo” was taller. 

Before he could think of anything to do, they were gone. Dream huffed and then pulled out the hair tie. He had to figure out what to do about that boy; he was obviously magic, in some way, and he was terrible at hiding it. He didn’t know who anyone here was besides Niki. He knew that he had to befriend people. It was necessary, but he had to be strategic; someone he wouldn’t get attached to, who knew useful things. Wouldn’t attempt murder. 

He strolled through the town, walking aimlessly; he got all the way to the other border wall, the slightly dimmer part of the town. A few people glared at him, a few asking for spare coins, Dream turned around. The sun had set, the faintest traces of purple leaving the sky. Stars twinkled above him and the air got colder. Dream knew he had missed dinner, which would worry Drista and upset Ma, but he needed to figure something out, and having to listen to his Ma wouldn’t help. Maybe he should get a drink. 

Dream decided that it was the best course of action; a few pints and then he’d go home, sleep well, and wake up to Drista’s terrible knocking. 

His green eyes looked for the nearest tavern and his shoulders relaxed when he saw one; the door was open ahd the light was inviting. Music spilled out of the windows, a lively tune. Just what he needed. 

He pushed the door open and looked around. It was warm, and a small group of musicians were playing. Near the stage was a group of people; an older man, the two teenagers he’d seen earlier, someone with a bandana, Niki, and George. He felt brief excitement. What were the odds of running into George? And Niki? The only people he’d spoken to in town?

Dream walked to the counter, ordering himself a pint and then sitting down, sipping it and watching the group as he went over what he could do. He could just approach them, he supposed. But a glance at George as he laughed at something Niki had said shut that down quickly. His smile was...too pretty. Dream took another drink, realized it was gone, and ordered another.

After his third drink, his head felt pleasantly empty. He refused a fourth one from the women behind the bar and ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the few knots. He hoped he looked like a farmer. 

“Dream?” A voice sounded surprised, and the man turned, hand straying to the dagger tucked away. 

“George!” Dream grinned and then quickly moved so that his hand fidgeted with the sleeve of his tunic. “What’re you doing here?”

The brunette pointed towards the musicians. “My friend Wilbur is playing tonight, so we came out here to support him.”

“We?” 

“Yeah, me and my friends Niki and Sapnap. The younger ones are Tommy and Tubbo, who were bothering me this morning. The old man is Phil, Tommy and Wilbur’s dad.” 

Dream nodded thoughtfully; if this group was connected, and with the slight age differences, he could get a grasp on a lot of information about the town. George was chewing on his bottom lip when Dream looked back at him. 

“Would you like me to introduce you to them? Since you’re new in town and all. I think you and Sapnap would get along. Tommy will probably annoy the life out of you, though. Tubbo’s a real sweetheart, but when he’s with Tommy he’s as wild as they come, and Niki, she owns the bakery near the southern wall, she’s the sweetest person to ever live. Phil is essentially just a dad, I swear, he fathers anyone under the age of twenty, and some that are over. He owns the apothecary, and he’s got great burn-cures, and--”

“George, I’d love to be introduced to them.” Dream smiled. He hated that his heart tugged when George smiled sheepishly, pink flush across his cheeks. The man nodded and then got two pints, walking him over to the table. 

“Here’s your drink, Sapnap.” George set it down on the table and the man with the bandana turned, his grin slightly lopsided. 

“George, thanks!” He paused when he made eye contact with Dream. “Who’s this? A new lover?”

Dream laughed, ignoring the heat in his face and how his heart sped up at the joke, as George choked on his drink; the noises made the other four look. Phil, Niki, and Tubbo waited patiently as George coughed, but Tommy apparently couldn’t handle it. 

“Is ‘e your new lover, George? Because if so, he’s gotta get the stamp of approval from me! Say, aren’t you the one who was hanging around George’s shop this morning? Where’d you come from, I’ve never seen you before. Tubbo, have you ever seen ‘im?” 

The other teen shook his head. 

“He is not my boyfriend.” George said firmly, and Dream smiled. “This is Dream. He’s new to town, and has a farm to the south of the border wall.” 

“Sounds pleasant,” Phil said. “I’m Philza. I own the apothecary in town with my son, Wilbur, who’s playing right now. This is my youngest, Tommy, and his friend, Tubbo.” 

“Hello,” Tubbo smiled. Tommy stuck his tongue out instead. 

“I’m Sapnap. I’m the local blacksmith. If you ever need any tools, let me know.” 

“We met this morning,” Niki nodded at him, “How did you like the honey tarts?”

“They were excellent.” Dream grinned. 

Tommy glanced around at the adults and then rolled his eyes. “Gods, you’re all so boring and old. Not asking any interesting questions!” 

“For being so insistent that you’re not a child, you certainly enjoy calling us all old.” Phil commented, innocently taking a sip of his drink as Tommy whirled his head to face him, an indignant expression on his face. 

“Phil! You, of all people! You’re practically ancient, for Gods sake!” Tommy suddenly paused, holding his hands out in front of him. “No, no, you’re trying to distract me from interrogating Gogy’s new love.” 

“He is not.” said George, and Tommy rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, doesn’t matter - if he’s joining our group, he ‘as to ‘ave the Tommy stamp of approval!” He turned in his seat to face Dream, and the man suddenly felt very strange about being under such a critical gaze of a boy who was probably just a bit older than his sister. “So, Dream, why is your name ‘Dream’, huh?”

“Unfortunately, only my mother knows.” Dream replied. His head was starting to lose the pleasant emptiness as he tried to sober up enough to focus; if he couldn’t keep lies straight, they’d figure it out. “She’s long gone.” 

“Sorry to hear that, Big D.” Tommy sounded genuinely sympathetic, and Dream ignored the looks from the other ones sitting there. “Anyways, what are your intentions towards my Gogy?” 

“What?” Dream blinked, and then he wheezed. Tommy looked surprised, and then laughed too, despite the obviousness of him not knowing what was funny. “You sound like you’re his dad, Gods.” 

Tommy seemed to think that was hilarious, because he started doing an absolutely terrible accent and speaking loud and fast to George. Sapnap elbowed the teenager and pointed up to the musicians, including one who Dream assumed was the reason the teenagers were in the tavern; he had dark brown curls and was glaring over at the table as he sang. 

Thankfully, Tommy shut up; the table went quiet, and Dream felt a bit out of place. Sapnap and Niki were watching the man on stage, while Phil smiled softly to himself. George was focused on his drink, while Tommy and Tubbo kicked each other under the table. He briefly wondered if his sister knew any of them; she spent much more time here than he ever had. She’d even forced him down to the bakery yesterday for a honey tart and a loaf of bread. 

Dream’s memory hit him like a brick; of course George had looked familiar this morning, it was because he had met him at the bakery! The man almost groaned, but knew that would be weird. He focused instead of trying to recall if anything had happened. His mind wouldn’t focus, instead fixated on the fact that he had compared George to Adonis. 

Suddenly, the tavern was clapping. Dream did the same, although he had no idea what he was clapping for. When the man from the stage walked over, a breathless smile on his face, the knight realized that the performance had ended. 

“I'm so glad you all could make it,” Wilbur said, hugging Niki when she rose to greet him. He exchanged brief hellos to everyone before slipping into a chair next to his father. “Who’s this?” 

“My name is Dream. I’m new to town, living just outside the border.” He said, and Wilbur shook his hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Dream. I’m Wilbur. Welcome to Middlesbrough. How’d you like the music?” 

Dream smiled and took a drink. “It was wonderful.” 

That prompted a grin from the man, but he was dragged away by Sapnap to get a drink. Tommy and Tubbo followed them, the blond begging for a drink; Dream caught the exasperated sigh from Wilbur before the chatter of the tavern overtook their voices. 

Phil turned to face the remaining people. His eyes locked onto Dream, and he suddenly felt naked. “So, Dream, you live on a farm outside the border? Does anyone stay with you out there?”

He fidgeted with the handle of his cup, feeling the gaze of both Phil and Niki on him. George didn’t seem interested as he picked at a chip in the table. “Yes, my sister does. I have a cat as well.” 

Niki smiled at that. “Sounds lovely. Do you think you could bring your sister into town someday, and stop by the bakery?”

He nodded, but before he could say anything else, the rest returned. Sapnap and Wilbur were currently threatening Tommy.

“Tommy, if you keep on doing that I’m going to kill you, I swear to the Gods, we’re in a public tavern, and if you - ow, Sapnap, what the hell?” Wilbur rubbed his side and sat down, glaring at the blacksmith. He jerked his face over at Dream, and the musician stopped grumbling. 

The table was awkwardly quiet for a whole forty seconds before Tommy started speaking. 

“Dream, do you let your sister drink? ‘Cause, see, I’m sixteen, and I’m an apprentice, for crying out loud! An armourer, in case you were wondering, and it’s perfectly pleasant but I’d rather be a knight, much more adventurous, but no one ‘round here becomes a knight. Hey, Wilbur, did you hear that a knight was in town? No one knows if he’s actually here or not, but they’re saying that -”

“There’s a knight in town?” Phil cut the boy off, his shoulders suddenly tense. Tommy nodded eagerly before recognition flashed behind his eyes. Dream felt himself stiffen and made an effort to appear slightly uninterested. He hadn’t realized rumors spread that quickly here; how anyone had even seen him training in his armour two days ago was a mystery. He’d taken the route through the forest for a reason. 

The adults at the table exchanged looks, and Dream felt strangely out of the loop. He wanted another drink. What was going on in this town? 

“George, why don’t you walk Dream to the border. Then come visit the apothecary, I’ve got your prescription ready. It’s past Tommy and Tubbo’s bedtime.” said Phil, and despite barely knowing them, Dream was surprised at the lack of outrage from the teenagers. They got up and followed the man out, leaving the rest alone. 

“I think I’m going to head home. I’ve got to be up early for the bakery. You sounded wonderful tonight, Wil.” Niki said her goodbyes and then left, drawing her coat close to her as she left. Sapnap followed her soon after, and Dream turned to look at George. 

“Are you ready to go? I can walk you to the wall if you’d like me to.” George asked, his gaze focused on the table. Dream allowed himself to stare for a moment. 

“I’d appreciate it very much, thank you.” Dream heard himself say, and then the two were walking towards the wall. The cold night nipped at his face, and sobered him up a decent bit. The walk home would be much longer than he wished. As his mind began to clear, Dream finally got a grasp on just how strange the ending in the tavern was. 

When a knight had been mentioned, the entire group had stiffened, as though that was bad news. Now, despite his general obliviousness (and slightly drunken state) Dream wasn’t stupid; people liked knights. People had loved him, before he’d disgraced himself. So, why had all of them, even Tommy, stopped talking and then promptly headed home? 

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep thinking so hard.” George commented, and Dream looked over at the man. He’d almost forgotten he was walking with him. 

“My sister says the same thing,” he replied with a soft grin, and the brunette gave him a strange look. 

“Will you and your sister be attending the Harvest festival?” 

Dream blinked. That question had come out of nowhere. “I suppose, if we can make it. She’ll probably force me to go.” 

“Well. If you do attend, you should stop by my shop. I’ll be busy, but I close early so I can be with friends.” 

The knight looked closely at his companion, and was pleased to see a slight flush across his face. “Well. Maybe I’ll be there.” 

George nodded and they faded back into silence. The wall approached quickly as lightning, and then they exchanged a quiet goodbye. Dream slipped through the gates after getting approval from the night guard, and headed towards his home. He briefly wondered if he should get the candles he’d slipped into a tree, but the whispers of the woods made him walk faster to get home. When he’d arrived, there were no lights. He tip-toed upstairs and tugged off his shirt, kicking his shoes off. He’d sobered up enough for the headache to come back. His mind was pounding, flooded with thoughts of George and thoughts of him. 

Thankfully, he fell asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve decided on a (tentative) publishing schedule of Tuesday afternoons!


	3. Ranboo Is Here and Dream Is Sus (Despite Not Being Present)

GEORGE ENTERED through the back of the apothecary, bag of bread swinging in his right hand while he carried candles in the left. Wilbur was quietly sorting through herbs at a table and nodded in greeting. Thumping came from upstairs in short bursts, followed by muffled swears. 

“What’s Tommy doing?” George asked as he set the bread down, sliding into a seat across from the man.

Wilbur sighed as an exceptionally loud thump shook the ceiling. “He’s practicing with Phil’s wooden sword. He thinks that if he figures out who the knight is, they’ll take him under their wing.” 

“He does know that he’s magic, right? One of the most promising that’s left. If you asked, I bet Bad would teach him. Even Callahan, maybe.” 

“Oh, he knows,” Wilbur rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t care. He’s under the impression that Tubbo will go with him and help him keep it under control.” 

George opened his mouth to reply, but there was suddenly another person entering behind him; Tubbo carrying a bucket of water. “Morning Wilbur, morning George. Is Tommy upstairs?” 

A thump echoed. “Never mind. Here’s some water for the basement people.” Tubbo deposited the bucker on the floor and then raced up the spiral staircase, taking them two at a time. Wilbur pushed the herbs to the side and grabbed the bucket. 

“George, will you help me down here? You’re better at healing magic than I am.” 

“If you want healing magic, get Niki. My magic is used on candles.” He grumbled. Wilbur laughed at that, opening the trapdoor. In the basement were the nine refugees, all sleeping soundly. The girl who had the curse was laying on a makeshift bed, her forearms bandaged tightly. Her sister was holding her carefully in her arms. 

“What’s with the bandage?” George whispered as he followed the younger man down the ladder. Wilbur leaned down and whispered a quick spell, the candles in George’s hand floating over to the candle holders. 

“The curse left some effects we weren’t prepared for. Her arms have gone grey, and her blood is struggling to flow. Phil thinks it’s a side effect. Not sure if it’s permanent or not.” 

The grimness in Wilbur’s voice betrayed the smile on his face. George felt a cold trickle down his spin as his friend slowly woke everyone up. 

Wilbur removed the bandage once she was awake, and as they all split the bread between them and drank water, George knelt next to her and whispered healing spells, light spinning around her arms. The skin was a dark gray, slightly scaly. She stared down with no concern, watching as the light circled around her. He wished his magic was stronger; all this would do would maybe get rid of any pain she was feeling. Not heal her.

George hated curses. 

~~~~~

It was barely noon and George was so bored. 

After the healing spells, he’d been tired; he and Wilbur had organized herbs for a little over an hour before Phil walked in the back and dumped more on the table. Tommy and Tubbo disappeared to their apprenticeships. People came in and out of the apothecary, Wilbur and Phil tending to them as George organized the herbs; wormwood, rose, sage, and countless others. He figured he should be at his own store, but it didn’t really matter. No one in town was in a desperate need, and he could live off the money just from his most recent order for months if he wanted to. Wait. Had he sent that order?

“Oh, fuck!” George sat straight up, eyes wide. Wilbur, who was preparing a burn cure for an old lady, looked over at him. “I forgot to send the order!” 

The man laughed and then nodded his head towards the back door. “Go send them, idiot. I’ll let Phil know.” 

George didn’t have to be told twice. He got up and pushed the door open, walking out of the alley and back into the main street. He rushed home, grabbing the crate. He wasn’t strong, and had no real need for it. If he ever got in trouble, he knew enough spells that he could get away. Unfortunately, the lack of strength showed itself here. George grumbled and swore under his breath as he struggled out the door, the crate of candles digging into his hip. As he went through the street towards the small building where Miriam would take them to the noble family, a few kids hiding in the corner of streets giggled at his struggle.

“Need some help?” A monotone voice said, the slight lilt in it alluding to delight. George rolled his eyes. 

“No, Techno, I don’t.” 

The man came out of the shadows, trailed by someone who was terribly tall - the boy towered over Technoblade. “You sure? Looks like you’re struggling a little.” 

“I don’t need any help.” George muttered, clenching his jaw as he adjusted the crate. The wood was sharp against his skin, and the weight was making his arms shake. The other man rolled his eyes and before he could blink, Techno had taken the crate and hoisted it in his own arms. 

“Taking it to Miriam, I presume?” He said, and George nodded with a sigh, ignoring the immediate relief in his limbs. 

There was a brief silence before George spoke. “What brings you into town? Visiting Phil?” 

“Yeah. I found this guy wandering around like a puppy. He’s, y’know...” Techno looked around and then lowered his voice. “Like all of you.” 

George glanced over at the boy. He looked like he was around Tommy and Tubbo’s age. His hair was the most noticeable thing about him; most of it was the darkest black George had ever seen, but on one side it was a not-quite-white shade. When the two made eye contact (the boy gave George the awkwardest smile he’d ever seen before his eyes darted away), it shocked him to see that his eyes were green and red. 

“I see that.” George muttered. The boy looked like he was going to say something, but he kept his mouth closed and fidgeted with a loose thread on his shirt instead.

They arrived at Miriam’s; she took the crate and promised immediate shipment, passing it off to one of her employees. The three then turned and walked towards the apothecary, the boy standing next to Techno.

“So, uh…” George looked over at the boy, who smiled gawky.

“Ranboo, my name is Ranboo.” 

“Ranboo, yes. Were you homeless?”

“He was homeless,” Techno interjected firmly. “He’s not anymore.” 

Ranboo smiled awkwardly and then shrugged. “Uh, yeah, I was. As long as I can remember. Which isn’t very long. I’ve got memory problems, so I write everything down in my notebooks.” 

George nodded. “Right, okay. So, you’re like...me?” The three turned onto the street of the apothecary. As they entered the building, Wilbur looked up and smiled.

“Techno, what’re you doing here? And...new guy.” He was still smiling, but looked confused. Phil poked his head out of the back, and grinned at the sight of his friend. 

“Hello, Techno. Ranboo, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing and extended his hand to the boy. He shook it stiffly, but Phil didn’t seem affected; he started talking immediately. “You two should go upstairs, I’ll be up in a few minutes - Wilbur, you stay down here. George, you should go upstairs too, I’ve got to talk to you as well. Oh, Wil, Mrs. Brooker is stopping by soon to pick up some herbs, you know what she needs.” 

The man disappeared into the back again, and Wilbur began shifting through bottles of dried plants. Techno sighed, mumbling something about always having to hide upstairs, but the three of them went up. 

George sat down at the kitchen table, wiping a few crumbs off onto the floor. Techno didn’t waste any time, tearing himself a chunk of bread from the loaf that sat on the small counter. Ranboo stood in the corner, looking vastly uncomfortable; his different colored eyes darted around incredibly fast. After a few awkward minutes, footsteps sounded on the stairs and Phil appeared on the landing.

“Right, hello. Uh, I’m not entirely sure how to go about this.” He laughed, and George gave him a small smile. “But we might as well. Ranboo, you’re magic?”

The boy jumped ever so slightly as the three looked over at him. He nodded, not making eye contact with any of them. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t really remember? But Techno said the stuff I do is magic, so...yes?”

Phil nodded and walked past the table, going to his bedroom and then coming back with a thick, dusty book. George lifted his head to read the title and sighed a little when he saw the Old Language. After a moment of Phil flipping through the pages, George finally deciphered what it said; Original Magic.

“What’s that say?” Techno asked, his brow furrowed. 

“It’s the first book of Original Magic. I’m going to see if Ranboo resonates with any of these.” Phil replied. George sighed again; he’d had to do this as a child, although his had been done by Bad. When you discovered you were magic (if you survived long enough), you eventually had to choose which types of magic you felt were yours. George’s own type was Alteration, and he was skilled enough in healing and divination to call them his. Everyone was slightly different, of course; Sapnap specialized in Alteration as well, but his strength in that was fire, while George had no specific area. Niki’s skills resided in Abjuration, and she was especially talented at healing spells. 

Overall, it was more of a tradition; long ago, before even curses were outlawed, mages had to choose whatever struck you hardest and had to practice that. Nowadays, they were scarce and every mage George had ever met was skilled in at least two types of magic. 

“Ranboo, I’d like you to repeat after me.” Phil looked up at the boy, and George focused as the elder man spoke slowly in the Old Language, the soft syllables accented by the sudden twists and turns of the words. If he didn’t hate having to read it, George would’ve found the Old Language beautiful. 

The tall boy nodded and then began to repeat the words, the sounds slightly forced. When he finished, there was a pause as they waited for something to happen. Without warning, the chair Techno was sitting in turned into a carrot, causing the man to fall to the ground with a yelp. 

George and Phil burst into laughter at his disgruntled expression, the heavy cloak he wore tangled around him. “Yeah, yeah, it’s sooo funny when you guys use magic on me.”

“Techno, I’m so, so sorry, are you alright? I didn’t mean to do that, I don’t even know what I said!” Ranboo looked frightened, his eyes wide as his hands fluttered at his sides. He took a step forward and then back again, seemingly unsure of what to do. Techno shrugged and stood up, brushing himself off. 

“No big deal, Ranboo. That’s what happens when your only friends are mages. Now turn my chair back, Philza.” 

“Right, sorry mate,” Phil grinned and then said the reversing spell; the carrot returned to a chair, and the pink-haired man sat back down, adjusting his cloak. “But Ranboo, that was excellent! You’ve got a knack for Alteration, that’s for sure.” 

“Is that good?” 

“Excellent! Alteration is the best.” George smiled, and Phil rolled his eyes. 

“George is biased.” He said. “Now, repeat after me…”

They did that for nearly two hours; Phil would say spells of every type of magic in the book. Ranboo would repeat them back, and then the spell would happen almost perfectly. The sun was slowly starting to sink beneath the walls of the town, and Ranboo was sitting awkwardly in a chair he had conjured. Techno was watching, his finger tracing patterns in the table, and George wondered why he needed to be here. Watching a teenager who had just figured out he was magic do better than him at what he’d been studying since he was born (and was incredibly taller) was starting to get on his nerves. 

Suddenly, there was swearing echoing up the stairs. All four looked over and then out came Tommy and Tubbo, stumbling over each other as they got to the top of the stairs. 

“ ‘Ello George, Dadza. Techno.” Tommy’s face soured when he saw the pink-haired man, and Techno rolled his eyes before nodding in greeting to them. 

“Phil, who’s the new guy?” Tubbo asked with a smile. Ranboo’s eyes were wide and he quickly glanced over the two teenagers before looking at the floor. 

“This is Ranboo. He’s living with Technoblade. He’s also a new mage.” 

“A new mage?” Tommy and Tubbo said in unison. Phil nodded and then closed the book that he was holding. 

“Yes, new mage. I’ve got some stuff to discuss with Technoblade and George, so why don’t you three, uh…” The man dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “Take these and go visit Niki. Or go somewhere else.”

Tommy grinned and snatched the coins out of his father’s hands, looping his arm around Tubbo’s and dragging him towards the stairs. “C’mon, Tubbo, let’s go!”

“Tommy, wait for Ranboo.” Phil said, his tone firm. The blond made a face but waited, bouncing on his feet as Ranboo stood up. 

“Techno I don’t want to go,” Ranboo whispered, but the man rolled his eyes. 

“It’ll be fine. I don’t want to be your only friend, weirdo.” 

The teenager followed Tommy and Tubbo down the stairs, looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Once the three boys were gone, Phil turned to George and Technoblade, folding his hands together. “Right, well. I’ve got two things to talk about. First is Ranboo.” He turned to Techno, his eyes wide. “Where did he come from? That’s the most powerful mage I have ever seen! He’s even more powerful than Tommy. Maybe Bad, even. He did every single spell, near perfect. He told you he didn’t even know he was magic?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t even know - he was buildin’ himself a shack and fell off the mountain. Thought he was gonna die, to be totally honest with you. But then he teleported, somehow. Landed right in front of me.” 

Phil and George blinked. “He...he teleported?” George whispered. The pink haired man nodded. 

“Yeah. Is that, like, not normal?”

“Is that not - no, Techno, that’s not normal!” Phil threw his hands up in the air, his eyes wide in shock. “You should’ve brought him here right when he did that!”

“Pfft, how was I supposed to know? I just make potions, man, I’m no mage.” Techno crossed his arms and glared at the wall.

“I - he teleported? You’re positive? Wasn’t just an accidental slow-falling charm?” Phil questioned, and Techno scoffed.

“He was over a hundred yards away from me. It wasn’t any accidental slow-falling charm, nothin’ like that. He was screaming, I looked over and I nearly ran over there, Phil, it was that serious, and then he was in front of me.” 

George sat back in his chair. Teleporting without assistance from other mages or premade teleporting areas (which hadn’t been done in nearly a hundred years) just didn’t happen. The last person to do such a thing was long gone. The fact that Ranboo had been able to do something, without even being aware of what he was…

“Holy shit. He’s got power, then.” Phil muttered. “I’m going to write to Callahan. And Bad. They’re two of the most powerful mages left, they have to know. Ranboo has got to stay safe.” 

Techno shrugged. “Cool. He’ll come back with me, then. We’ll be back next Sunday.” 

“What? No! Ranboo should stay here, in town, with all of us. He’ll be safe here. No matter who he stays with - me, Niki, Sapnap, even George, he’s safer with a mage. Someone who could teach him. Keep him alive.” 

Techno stiffened. “Are you sayin’ he wouldn’t be safe with me? In a house no one visits ‘cept you? You forget that I’m the Blood God, Phil.” His eyes were narrowed, and George felt very uncomfortable. He hated when Techno got upset, or when Phil did. It was even worse when the two of them were upset at each other. It rarely happened, but when it did it was unpleasant for everyone. 

“You’re retired.” Phil replied stiffly. “It’s been years since you killed.”

“Years since I killed a person. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it again.” 

The room was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop. George fiddled with his thumbs and looked between the men, both with anger etched across their faces. Techno was tapping his index finger on the table. 

“Fine. Ranboo goes home with you. Once I get a reply from Callahan and Bad we’ll figure out what to do with him.” Phil relented, and Techno smiled thinly. 

“Sounds like a plan. What was the second thing you wanted to talk about?” 

“The knight. Supposed knight, anyways. Tommy said last night that there’s rumors of a knight, seen training in the woods. There’s no proof to it yet, but we have to be careful. Especially with the refugees. There’s five more coming through soon. And the ones we’ve got currently have no place to go. We had to give up their next spot to keep them here, because the girl isn’t fully healed from the curse. She’s having strange side effects that I wasn't prepared for.” 

“Curse?” Techno frowned. “What kind?”

“Basiliscus.” George said. “We thought it was venenum.” 

Techno blinked. “Heh? Did you say basiliscus?” 

“Yes, basiliscus. I’ve locked it up and buried it where it will - hopefully - die out.” said Phil.

“Can curses die? I mean, they aren’t really alive right?” Techno mused. George groaned; every time anyone brought curses up, Technoblade went and talked about science, or whatever it is he called it. 

“We’ve gone through this time and time again. Curses don’t have to adhere to science, because they’re magic. They’re like, semi-sentient.” George snapped, and Techno smirked. 

“Ooh, magic doesn’t adhere to rules. Whatever, man. I’m gonna be honest, I think curses make no sense. How do they know that you were the one who trapped them?”

Phil shrugged. “They just do, mate. But that’s not what’s important right now. What we need to be focused on is the supposed knight roaming through Middlesbrough. They’d be new to town, probably on the wealthy side or closed off about where they’re from. Maybe one of the Sunday merchants?”

George frowned. “I didn’t see any new ones last Sunday. The only new guy in town is Dream.” 

“So...is Dream suspiciously new in town and wealthy?” Techno asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Dream’s a farmer.” George scoffed. “He’s living outside the southern border wall with his sister.” 

“Right. That’s not weird. Guy moves into town, outside the border walls, and is suddenly making friends with mages? Pretty sus.” said Techno. 

“He doesn’t know that we’re mages!” George rolled his eyes. “It’s not Dream. There’s no way.” 

The two looked to Phil, and the man sighed. “Dream is new, George. We’ll keep our eyes on him, but won’t say anything. If you can, try and find out more about him. I’ll talk to a few people, see if they know him. Or if anyone new is in town that we haven’t met. We’ll talk about this again next Sunday? Unless you find anything out about Dream, George.” 

“Sounds perfect to me, Philza.” Techno clapped his hands together and then stood up, adjusting his cloak. “Now, it’s a long walk home. I’m goin’ to get Ranboo and head back. Send a letter if you need either of us.” 

George waved goodbye, and Phil stood up, following his friend down the stairs. 

Being left alone in a house that wasn’t his was a bit strange. George figured he’d been hanging around long enough. There were plenty of things he could do at his own shop - like being open. So he stood up and resigned himself to cleaning the shop and talking to the few customers he would get. 

“Where’re you going?” Wilbur asked when he appeared downstairs. 

“I figure I might as well open the shop for a while,” George grumbled, and Wilbur smiled before waving goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any typos as i only did a quick read-through before posting!


	4. A Visit to the Apothecary and New Guy?? Also Bees

WHEN GEORGE woke up, the sun was streaming through the window and pooling over his blanket. The books he had borrowed from Sapnap were laying on his nightstand, surrounded by other books of the sort. All of them were written in the Old Language, the symbols short and squished together.

Yesterday, George had kept the shop open for a few hours. He had sold a few tallow candles to the people who drifted through, and cleaned the downstairs before going to sleep early. Now, as he stretched out in bed, the sun warm against his face, George couldn’t be happier. He was going to visit Wilbur and the refugees in the apothecary before going to see Niki. Today was Wednesday; it was time to visit the bee farm. 

As he rolled out of bed and dressed, eating a quick breakfast, George mused the thought of getting a cat. He was lonely at home. Sapnap had cats that lived in his little apartment next to the forge. They were pleasant enough.

George laced up his boots and then stretched, smiling as he went down the stairs and out the shop. A few people were walking past. He paid them no attention and went towards the apothecary. He went in through the front door and waved to Wilbur. “Morning, Wil.” 

“Good morning George. Niki’s down in the basement, doing some healing on the girl. Come into the back, I’ve received information about the next group.” 

The two went and sat down at the table. Wilur pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to George. “No curses this time, I see.” He muttered, and Wilbur scoffed. 

“Yeah, thank the Gods.” 

“Hey, Wilbur, I want you to come look at her arm - oh, George, hello!” Niki had poked her head up the ladder and smiled at George when they made eye contact. “I didn’t realize you were here. Both of you should come down and check. George’s better at healing anyways.” 

“Of course.” Wilbur and George followed her back down the ladder. 

The basement was cold. The girl who had the curse was lying with her head in her sister's lap. Her arms didn’t look like they changed; they were still gray and slightly scaly. Niki had taken off the bandages, and a healing spell was shimmering over her skin. 

“Look over here, right next to her veins.” Niki pointed. “It’s starting to let up a bit.”

George bent down and squinted. “Yeah, I see. Do you mind if I touch your arm?” 

The girl shook her head and George picked it up, the healing spell warm under his fingers. Right next to her wrist was a small patch of regular, human skin. He moved his hands and pressed lightly on it. She winced. “Does it hurt?” 

“Just a bit. Only when you press.” The girl muttered. George nodded and stood up. Wilbur was passing out food to a few of the other refugees and speaking quietly with the woman who seemed to be the leader. 

“To help with your skin I’ve put a long-lasting healing spell over it.” Niki was crouched in front of the girl, redoing the spell. She whispered the Old Language softly, a small yellow light spiraling around the girl's arm. “It should work at the part that’s back to normal. It could cause pain, though. I’ll send Tubbo here with a potion later today. If it gets too bad, have Wilbur fix something up.” 

The girl nodded, her eyes focused on the light's small ebb and flow. Niki smiled and then rose to her feet, heading up the ladder. George followed, and Wilbur came up soon after. He closed the trapdoor behind him. 

“I see that we’ve got a new group coming in?” Niki asked, sitting down at the table. Wilbur nodded. 

“Yeah, five of them. Problem is that they’re going to be here on Friday. Two days. We don’t have enough time to move the nine that are downstairs, and not enough space for them all.” 

George frowned. “Can we keep five in my basement?”

“Your basement is hardly even a room,” said Niki. “If we’re putting anyone anywhere, it should be in the bakery. My storage room is huge.” 

Wilbur sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “We still need to figure out where to send these ones. Puffy was supposed to help them through the North, but she got a different group and had to leave. She’s not coming back for two weeks. The only other person nearby who could take them in is Alyssa or Foolish. But it would take them time to get close enough to even take them towards the North.”

There’s silence. Moving refugees around has always been tricky, but it hadn’t been this bad in years; there had been a battle a few months ago and tensions were higher than ever, which meant that there were more refugees whose homes had been uprooted. Most mages were sympathetic towards them, but the amount of mages were limited. They had expanded towards non-magic people like Ant and Puffy, but only because they had already known about mages. There were only so many places they could move to. Techno had always been adamant that he would make potions and help them travel between Middlesbrough and Puffy’s home, but he wouldn’t hold any in his house.

“We can talk to Phil about it later.” Niki said firmly. “I’ll be back later with one of my healing potions and I’ll redo the spell on the girls arm. George, are you coming out to the bees with Tubbo and I?”

“Of course. See you, Wil.” 

George and Niki waved goodbye and Wilbur smiled as they left. The sun was still shining, taking the bite out of the October air. When the two arrived at her bakery, Tubbo was already there; he was feeding the chickens in the backyard and grinned happily at them both. 

“Good morning George! What are you doing here?”

“It’s Wednesday, Tubbo.” Niki smiled, and the boy gasped. 

“Bees!” 

~~~~~

The small area Niki had claimed for her bee farm was beautiful. It was a twenty-minute walk from the bakery, and Tubbo and George carried the supplies they needed to get the honey. There were five beehives, and a flower field that Niki made sure was always taken care of; in the summer she weeded it and in droughts she dragged water from the river to make sure no flower died. 

“Alright, Tubbo, do you want to try one by yourself?” Niki asked as she pulled out the things she’d need from the bag George had carried. In a thick glass jar was the ointment she made just for this; it was a complex recipe that George had never cared to learn. 

“You bet!” Tubbo grinned and smeared the ointment over his face and bare arms. Niki did the same, but she put some in her mouth and blew into the beehive. As she did so, Tubbo began burning a mixture of wood and cow dung that was gathered at the edge of the field, put there by local farmers. George wrinkled his nose at the smell but said nothing as he rubbed the ointment over his own face and arms. 

“Try taking the honeycomb out.” Niki said. Tubbo slowly reached into the hive and pulled out the honeycomb. A few bees buzzed around him but did nothing. He smiled widely and placed it into a woven basket. George would pick them up and scrape off the dripping honey into a bottle before putting it back into the basket. 

Overall, the process took about three hours. It was past lunchtime when the three began walking home, laden with honeycomb. They got to the wall before smoking the wax out of the honey, and then entered into the bakery. The three washed off the sticky ointment and George collected his wax before leaving. His stomach was rumbling, and George was content to treat himself to a big lunch; he had bread with cheese, meat, and two apples. The wax sat in the back of his shop. George needed to restock his wax candles; so far there hadn’t been any new orders, but it was always good to have some ready. He figured that he could do them later, though. He was craving a honey tart. 

~~~~~

When George walked into the bakery, Tubbo pounced on him, wrapping his hands around his arm. 

“George, please help. Niki’s freaking out and I don’t know what to do!”

“Wait, what? Why is she freaking out?” George asked with a frown as the boy led him into the back. The back of the bakery was a hallway with a staircase leading upstairs to Niki’s apartment and then one downstairs to the storage room; a door leading to the backyard was open. 

“She’s back there!” Tubbo said, pointing outside. “She got a letter and started freaking out, and then she went to get her horse.” 

“A letter? From who?” questioned George as he stepped into the small backyard. Niki was preparing her horse, throwing the saddle on and ignoring the chickens running underfoot. She looked stressed, her hair falling out of her braid, front of her dress slightly dirty. 

“Niki, what are you doing?” He called out, and she turned with wide eyes. 

“My cousin Karl is coming to town for a few months. I just got his letter - he’s going to be here in not even an hour, and I’m not ready at all! I have to get things to accommodate him and then I have to hide all my magical things, this is bad, George.” 

“Wait - your cousin isn’t magic?” George’s brow furrowed. Niki sighed impatiently. 

“Yes, I’m only half-magic, remember? He’s from my dad’s side. Not-magic. He also doesn’t like magic, so...a bit of a problem.” 

George blinked; he forgot that Niki was only half-magic. And that the rest of her family was alive. “Right, of course. Uh...would you like any help?”

“Yes, that would be lovely. I have to ride up to Techno and get notebooks from him - I’ll be back within the hour. Hide all of my magic things in my bedroom or behind the stone in the basement, Karl won’t go in there. Clean up the bakery and my apartment, please. If I get back before him I’ll help, if not, good luck with him.” 

Niki opened the gate and led her horse out, slamming it shut behind her and taking off, the clopping of the hooves fading. George and Tubbo exchanged a look and then went inside, quickly getting to work. Tubbo went through the downstairs, scooping up empty potion bottles and a few books. George combed through the small apartment, taking them into the basement. Niki had a small burrow hidden behind the stone floor, so they put them in there. 

Nearly a half hour later, they were wiping down the bakery; Tubbo had dealt with a few customers while George swept the whole building. Fresh flowers were arranged and the counter wiped down, the windows propped open to let in the chilly air. It was just as Tubbo placed fresh loaves in the display frame when the sound of Niki’s arrival could be heard. 

“Oh, Gods, thank you both so much for cleaning!” Niki grinned as she came inside, her hair wild and dress rumpled. She had a small backpack slung over one shoulder, filled to the brim with leather bound books. 

“Are those...all notebooks?” Tubbo asked, and the woman nodded as she tossed it on the ground. 

“Karl goes through a lot. He keeps diaries, writes stories, and he’s a scholar. I haven’t seen him a while, and even if I don’t like his side of the family, he’s still my family. I’m starving. I want some bread.” She moved past Tubbo and pulled a loaf of rye bread out, tearing off a chunk and eating it dry. 

George blinked. “So, uh...how was Techno?”

“He was fine. Did you know he has a boy living with him now? I didn’t realize he was living there. I met him on Monday, when Technoblade stopped in for some bread. He’s a quiet kid. Awkward.” 

“That’s Ranboo!” Tubbo grinned. “He’s the coolest!” 

George smiled. There was a sudden knock on the door, and all three turned to see a young man standing there with a crooked grin and brown hair swept over his forehead. “Uh, hi Niki. Random people.” 

“Karl!” Niki beamed, tossing the bread down and crossing the bakery to wrap the man in a hug. Tubbo and George stepped back, feeling awkward as the two greeted each other with hugs and loud talking. 

“I hope the bakery’s been doing well, and I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write as much - mail got intercepted by the King of Nilsa a few weeks ago, and they had to go through everything being sent out of the capitol. I wasn’t sure when you’d get the letter, but I couldn’t stay in the capitol for long, so I just packed what I needed and left.” 

“You’re always more than welcome to stay here!” Niki replied. The two of them continued talking, very loud and happy. George and Tubbo stayed quiet; George even considered leaving after about five minutes of ceaseless conversation between the two. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! Karl, this is my apprentice, Tubbo. I’ve written to you about him a few times.” Niki turned and gestured to the teengaer, who smiled and waved. Karl grinned and stepped forwards, holding out his hand. 

“Yes, I’ve heard great things about you! It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s lovely to meet you too!” Tubbo said, shaking his hand. 

“And this is George, one of my close friends. He’s the candle-maker in town.” Niki gestured to him. He and Karl shook hands and exchanged brief pleasantry. There was a brief silence, and then Niki took her cousin by the arm and led him towards the apartment stairs. 

“Tubbo, if you’d like you can take the rest of the day off - I’m going to help Karl get settled. George, thank you so much for all the help with the bees. I’ll stop by the apothecary tonight.” said Niki.

“It was nice to meet you two.” Karl waved, and the other two did so in return before exiting the building. 

“Well, uh...see you around, Tubbo.” George muttered. Tubbo nodded and then ran off towards the armourer without a word. He wondered why he was so awkward around teenagers.

~~~~~

“And then I went bam!” Tommy threw himself forwards, slashing out with the wooden sword and sticking it through the small gap Tubbo had made between his torso and arms. 

“I've been stabbed! O’ curse the Gods, cruel cruel Gods!” He cried out, stumbling backwards. He let himself fall on the floor with a grunt, tossing his arms up. “Blood! Bleeding, so much bleeding! Oh, I’m bleeding out! And, I’m dead! Blergh.” He tilted his head to the side and stuck out his tongue, closing his eyes.

George blinked. He glanced over at Wilbur and Phil, who seemed unbothered. Like this happened every night. Did this happen every night?

“So, what did you think? Pretty good reenactment, right?” Tommy asked him happily as he pulled Tubbo to his feet. 

“Uh...yeah. Totally. It was...spectacular.” George looked over at Wilbur, who nodded and gave him a not-so-discreet thumbs up. If the boys saw it, they ignored it, opting to slide into their chairs and start sipping at the soup Phil had made them. 

“Niki should be here soon to change the girls' bandages and do another healing spell.” Phil looked out the window, searching the street below them for her. “How is everyone liking the soup?”

“It’s good,” Wilbur muttered. 

“Absolutely wonderful, Dadza, I’m loving the-the accenting of rabbits with uh, is this pepper? And salt? Really outdone yourself this dinner, truly. And the bread from Niki’s bakery?” Tommy gave a chef's kiss. “Just the best thing I’ve ever ‘ad.” 

George forgot how much he disliked eating dinner with Tommy. “It’s good, Phil, I agree.” 

Phil smiled and ate a spoonful of the soup. There was a whole thirty-seconds of silence before Tommy started talking about his day, and how Sapnap had delivered some materials to the armourers and how he had almost made the man set him on fire. Then he launched into something about how much he hated men. 

There was a small strand of yellow light flicking against the window, and Wilbur got to his feet, thankful for the excuse to leave the dinner table. “That’ll be Niki. I’ll go let her in.” 

“I’ll come with you!” Goerge offered, desperate for an escape. Wilbur gave him a mischievous smile. 

“No, no, George, you couldn’t possibly miss one of Tommy’s stories.” 

Tommy grinned and thanked his brother before launching into a story about how much he hated cats. George glared at the other man as he went downstairs to let Niki in. 

When they returned, Tommy was still going off about cats; Tubbo had interjected a few times to say that he actually liked cats, but Tommy just laughed and would say that the only cat he did like was the one he and Tubbo fed (apparently Phil didn’t know about this and was surprised to find out that the stray who slept behind their shop was named Leonard). Niki smiled in greeting and sat down between Tubbo and Wilbur, refusing the soup offered by Phil. 

The rest of dinner passed by quickly. Phil took Wilbur, George, and Niki downstairs and put the boys in charge of washing up; George knew before they had even left that it was a bad idea. Tommy was already splashing water at Tubbo. 

“Wilbur told me that her skin was getting better?” Phil asked as the four went towards the basement. Niki nodded and pulled her hair into a ponytail as Wilbur lifted the trapdoor up. 

“Yes. Towards the veins near her wrist, it was returning to normal. I gave her bandages that had a bit of healing magic infused before casting a long-lasting spell. I’m going to give her this potion, which hopefully will help her feel better and speed up her natural healing process.” She pulled the bottle out of her pocket. George wished he knew what color it was. They all went down the ladder; the people were already sipping on bowls of the soup. The girl was sitting up, her arms tightly wrapped in bandages. 

“Hullo, Alina.” Niki smiled. “I brought you the potion I told you about.”

The girl (Alina, George now knew) took the bottle and looked at it suspiciously. “Is this going to taste bad? It’s a weird purple.” 

“It should taste like lavender,” Niki smiled. “If you don’t like it, you can just chug your soup after.” 

Alina shrugged and downed the whole thing in one go. Her sister slapped her arm and the girl shrugged before handing the empty bottle back to Niki. “Tastes alright, I guess.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she laughed. “Now, could I unwrap your bandages? I’m going to cast another healing spell. George is going to help me.” 

George stepped forwards and knelt down beside Niki, watching as she took off the cloth. Wilbur and Phil were talking with the leaders of the group. 

“George, could you cast a boosting spell for me?” Niki muttered, and he nodded. She cast her own spell and directly after George cast his. The color rippled when he cast his boosting spell, the shimmer slightly pulsing. Alina made a look of distaste. 

“It tickles,” she muttered. Niki laughed and gently patted her head. 

“Yes, healing spells will do that. Now, hopefully tonight your skin will heal more - what George’s and I’s magic is going to do is speed up the body's natural healing process. What we think your body is doing is fighting off the effects of the curse - getting rid of it so quickly after it staying so long has probably messed something up inside. Nothing terrible, thank the Gods.” She tapped the girl's arm as she wrapped new bandages. “Your body was already fighting it off. The magic should help it so that you’re all able to leave quicker.” 

George glanced over at Wilbur as she continued talking; the man was frowning, fidgeting with his sweater. Phil’s arms were crossed as the leader of the group spoke with quick hand movements. 

“Alright, all good! I’ll be back in the morning, Alina.” Niki stood up and waved to the girl before going up the ladder. George glanced over at the others before following her upstairs. 

He could hear Tommy and Tubbo fighting even from downstairs. “So, how is uh…”

“Karl?” Niki shrugged, looking through bottles of herbs. George leaned back against the table, not asking what she was looking for. “He’s fine. Asleep when I left. I need to figure out how to explain why I’m coming over here every day.” 

“Just tell him we’re all just the bestest of friends. If you really want to, I bet you’ve just gotta introduce him to some girl in town and he’ll leave you alone the whole time he’s here.” 

Niki scoffed as she pulled out a bottle of thyme. “Karl’s left the capitol because he was almost arrested for not being with a lady.”

“Oh.” George coughed. “Right, yeah. I forget that they’re like that up there.”

There’s a long silence. Niki continues going through the herbs. Phil and Wilbur still haven’t come back upstairs. George can feel the table digging into his back, but his mind is focused on the capitol. 

One of the biggest things that differentiated the mages from everyone else was love. Regular people had rules and expectations, but mages had always believed that love was magic in its purest form. In fact, it was common for mages who found love to become more powerful than they had before. There was absolutely no judgement on who it was you loved. 

“Introduce him to some guy, then.” George said. “I bet he and, oh...Sapnap would get along well.” 

Niki laughed. “Oh, yes, I can see that happening. I’m sure Karl would love hanging around the forge.” 

Suddenly, the trapdoor closed. They looked over to see Wilbur and Phil; George hadn’t noticed them come up. “Is everything alright with them?” 

Phil shook his head. “James, the leader, wants to move without Alina and her sister. He thinks they’re dragging them down.” 

No one said anything. It was painfully quiet. 

“Well. They can’t go anywhere anyways, unless they’re setting out on their own. So he’ll have to suffer.” said Niki. George nodded his agreement. “Anyways. I’ve got to get home. I’ll stop by in the morning to check on her. Sleep well.” 

They said their goodbyes and then Niki left through the front door, wrapping her coat tight. George sighed and pushed himself off the table. 

“I’m going to head out as well. Do you guys need me here tomorrow?” 

Phil shook his head. 

“Alright. If I need anything, I’ll stop by.” George gave them a small wave and then left. The moon was bright, and he wondered if he should go out to Dream’s farm tomorrow. Or would that be too strange? He hadn’t seen Dream since he’d walked him home. 

George decided that he’d figure it out tomorrow; his bed was too warm to think about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> karl has now been introduced, and i have plans for his character :) i’m not super proud of this chapter, but the next few are probably not going to be as interesting as i would like - mostly dreams backstory + him getting more involved with everyone else!


	5. Dream & Drista Do Things (Also Karl is Here)

“CLAY, PLEASE?” Drista groaned when he ignored her. “Clay!”

“What, Drista?” He snapped. She smiled. 

“Can you take me to the grove and we could sword fight?” 

Dream looked over at her. They were sitting in the parlor; their Ma was having company and wanted them both there. Drista was wearing a dark green dress, her hair in a delicate braid; Dream had on one of his own darker green tunics, his pants a tan color. The fire was crackling in the hearth, and the leaves outside the windows fell off slowly. The sun was still out, warm and inviting. 

“You know we can’t leave,” he said, slumping in his chair. “Ma wants us both here.” 

Drista groaned and threw herself back on the couch. “But it’s always so boring with company! We just sit here and do nothing.” 

“Well, that’s what makes Ma happy. If we sneak off to go sword fighting, she’ll have our heads.” 

“No, she’ll have your head,” Drista pointed at him. “I’m a perfect angel and could never do anything wrong.” 

He rolled his eyes, hating that it was true. “Either way. Not doing it.” 

“Ugh,” Drista crossed her arms. The room went quiet; their Ma was waiting to greet the company at the front door. Dream wondered who it was. Supposedly, he was a scholar from the capital who was now living in town. Whoever it was, Dream hoped he didn’t know them. 

“What if I do something for you?” Drista arched an eyebrow. He stared at his sister in disbelief. 

“Fine. What do you have to offer?”

She smirked. “I’ll go to the bakery and harvest festival with you and pretend to be a weird farm girl or whatever you said I was.” 

Now that was something Dream was interested in. He hadn’t gone back into town since George had walked him to the wall, part of it wanting to step back and create a plan of action, and other parts of it him being scared of George’s beautiful face. He had told Drista of the lie, since she was part of it; she had promptly declared that he was an idiot, and that since they didn’t have a farm, he was screwed. What was he to do if someone wanted to come over for tea? 

He’d told her to shut up, and that farm girls weren’t so mean. She had threatened to stab him with her fork. 

Drista knew he was considering it, her mouth drawn up in a smirk. Dream rolled his eyes. 

“Tell you what,” he leaned forwards, trying to figure out how to make it work. “We sit here for about twenty minutes, yeah? Then I excuse myself, say that I’ve got a stomach ache, go get all the things we’ll need. A little later you do the same, but you go out the back door in the kitchen. Grab some coins too. We’ll go visit the bakery, stop by George’s, and then head back. I’ll make you deal with Ma’s anger. Then, when the festival rolls around, we go there.”

“Sounds great!” Drista grinned, sitting up and throwing her hand out. Dream rolled his eyes and shook her hand. They sat back in their chairs, and just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the door swung open. 

“Clay, Drista, this is Karl Jacobs.” Their Ma suddenly swept into the room, bringing behind her a boy with brown hair and a confident smile. The two turned to face him and while Drista smiled wide and nodded in greeting, Dream’s heart froze. 

This isn’t good.

~~~~~

Dream wanted to jump out the window. He wanted to set himself on fire, run screaming from the room, anything to get him away from Karl. This man who knew exactly who he was. 

Dream knew Karl had recognized him because his eyes had gone wide and his hand had frozen halfway up before he jerked himself out of it and greeted him with a warm “Hello, Clay, it’s so nice to meet you.” 

Now they had all been sitting in the parlor for well over an hour, the conversation carried by his Man who was oh-so-excited to finally have someone of status visiting. Drista kept giving him a side eye, his knee was bouncing and Karl was sitting, so freaking relaxed, chatting casually with his Ma and involving Drista as much as he could. 

“So, why have you left the capitol and come out here, Mister Jacobs?” his Ma questioned as she sipped her tea. Dream smiled thinly. 

“Yeah, Mister Jacobs, why have you?” He repeated. Karl didn’t seem to be bothered by his barely-hidden hostility. His Ma sent him a sharp look (that he ignored). 

“I was feeling crowded. Decided I would pay my cousin Niki Sommer a visit - she owns a bakery in Middlesbrough, where I’m staying. She bakes the best honey tarts. Have you ever had any, Drista?”

“Yeah, a couple times. They’re great.” She still appeared a bit shocked at being brought into the conversation; most visitors tended to ignore her, going for Dream and his status as the next greatest knight of the kingdom.

Karl smiled and turned to Dream. “How about you, Clay? Ever had any of Niki’s honey tarts?”

Dream nodded and didn’t speak. As his Ma dragged Karl into a discussion about the Queen and her new war efforts against the King of Nilsa, Drista threw an apple slice at him and jerked her head towards the door. 

“If you’ll excuse me Ma, Mister Jacobs, I’m feeling a tad ill. I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.” Dream rose to his feet quickly and walked out before his mother could protest, turning down the hallway and towards his bedroom, where his old training swords were. He opened the cupboard and pulled them out, tossing the wooden swords on the bed and he started walking around, his mind racing.

He couldn’t believe Karl was here. Why was he here? Had he followed Dream here, or genuinely just left the capitol? It doesn’t fit into what he knows about Karl for him to have followed a disgraced knight home. Was Karl here to...keep tabs on him for the queen or something? Would she have done that? Did she still trust Karl? Or had the man been sent away, found out, something similar? What was he doing here?

“I thought you were supposed to be laying down?” 

“Oh my fucking Gods!” Dream yelled, whipping around to face the doorway. Karl jumped backwards in surprise before grinning. 

“Didn’t realize I could still scare you so much, Clayyy.” He giggled. “Gods, I can’t believe it - we’ve been friends since we were fifteen and I had to be invited to your house by your mother, who apparently doesn’t know that we’re friends, to find out what your real name is?”

“Why are you here?” Dream stepped forwards, grabbing the sword off his bed and pointing it at him. It was wooden and old, cracked along the blade, not intimidating in the least, but it made him feel better. A little more in control. 

Karl certainly didn’t care; he just moved it out of his face and started talking. “I’m here because I was found out. Like you were.” 

“That didn’t take long.” 

“Yeah, only a month. I was surprised to find out that a certain disgraced knight had put suspicion on my name, though.” Karl’s confidence fell away, and Dream’s heart tugged at the look of sadness that was etched on the others face. “Why did you tell the Queen about me, Dream? It’s not my fault you and -”

“Don’t say his name.” Dream hissed. “And I’m sorry for giving you up. I was drunk out of my mind, and she threatened to have me executed, Karl. Killed. She had a sword to my throat and I was drunk and I was - I was scared. She told me that if I told her of someone, she would give me another chance, not fully disgrace me, and I can’t…” Dream’s words got stuck in his throat, tight and sharp. Karl didn’t speak for a long moment. 

“I forgive you.” 

“What?” Dream stared at him in shock. 

“I forgive you.” He repeated. Karl looked away from him and shrugged. “I’ll survive. Worst comes to worst, I stay out here. Build a house. Have a library of my own, instead of sharing with all the other scholars at the university. Maybe settle down. Niki’s told me that no one around here cares much about that kind of thing.” 

Dream’s mind flashes to George, to his friends at the tavern joking about them being lovers. To George’s face in the moonlight, and how soft his hair looked. 

“But I forgive you, Dream. I won’t tell people why you’re here, if that’s what you’re worried about. Statistically speaking, towns on the outskirts of the kingdoms have more mages than bigger cities anyways. You’ll get back into Her Majesty’s good graces soon enough.”

“I...thank you.” said Dream stiffly. Karl nodded and then turned on his heel and walked away. He heard him say something like Good luck with sword-fighting, and then Drista was there, anger on her face. 

“You left me alone with Ma!” She snapped. “That Karl man followed you out here not even a minute after you left! Took me ages to convince her that I was bored out of my mind and deserved to go to the bakery.” 

Dream rolled his eyes and tossed her a sword. “Let’s get going then.” 

Drista caught it easily and then raced down the stairs, Dream close on her heels. 

~~~~~

“Come on, if you ever want to become a knight you’ve got to work better on your footwork!” Dream laughed and tapped his sister on the shoulder with the sword. She groaned and fell backwards, adjusting her grip. 

“It’s not my fault I have to spend all day inside!” She snapped, throwing herself forwards. Dream blocked it easily and she stepped back. “You’re on track to become the best knight in the kingdom. I have to do needlework.” 

“That’s right I am!” He grinned and swung, slightly surprised when she parried. 

The two of them were in the willow grove, the walls of Middlesbrough barely visible through the trees. The river rushed by, and the slightly chilly air nipped at their skin. Thankfully, the sun and the swordfighting warded off any cold just as quick as it came. “One of the best things you can do as a knight is knowing when you need to fall back.” He grinned and swung again, smacking her lightly on the head with the sword. 

“You churl!” She groaned and then tossed the sword on the ground. “I’m done fighting with you. I never win.” 

“That’s why it’s fun.” He teased, but tossed his sword down too. Drista laid down on the grass and threw her arms out. Dream sat down next to her, enjoying the sun pressing on his face. The willow trees danced in the wind as the clouds moved past quickly. 

They sat in silence for a while. Drista pulled out strands of grass while Dream let himself listen to the river, thinking. Karl’s sudden appearance had shaken him. His easy forgiveness had shaken him too; if their positions were switched, Dream knew he would’ve been furious. But Karl had always been so different, even in the not-so-obvious ways. For Karl, the capitol had always just been...the capitol. He’d spent more time there than Dream, and yet he held no loyalty to the place, seemingly excited at the prospect of staying in Middlesbrough forever. But for Dream...the capitol was his home; his friends were there, his favorite place for a drink, and everyone knew him or knew of him. He was to be knighted there, part of the Queen’s Guild, the highest honor he could’ve ever hoped to have. 

Drista sat up and pulled out the small pouch of coins, shaking him out of his thoughts. She pulled a few out and smiled toothily at him. “What do you say we go and pretend to be farmers?” 

Dream laughed and stood up, pulling his sister up to her feet. “Sounds great.” 

As he looped arms with her and set off towards the wall, he knew that he couldn’t just leave the capitol behind. This was nice, spending time with his sister and even with his mother. But he belonged in the capitol. In the Queen’s Guild. He felt most alive when he was fighting, and he was good at it. That was what he had been training for since he was a child. He couldn’t just leave it behind. He could bring more honor to his family as a knight then sitting around his home like a bum. 

“Do you think Niki will recognize us? You did come in on Sunday.” Drista asked, jerking him out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, no. I’ve already established that I’ve been here for a while, just not in town. And we’re farmers, don’t forget. South of the southern border wall.” 

“With a cat, yes, yes I know. Say, who is that George guy again? Is he the good-looking one?” 

Dream ignored the skip in his heart and nudged her. “I never said anything about anyone being good-looking.” 

“Yeah, but when you told me about him your face went all funny.” 

“Oh, be quiet.” 

Drista laughed. The two of them entered into the town, nodding towards the guards who were currently drinking on the job (and doing a terrible job of hiding it). They headed towards the bakery, and Drista was talking about some book she was reading about mythology. They turned and could see the bakery; Tubbo was watering the flowers outside, and when he saw them his face split into a grin. 

“Dream, hello!” He waved as they approached, eyes darting to Drista. “And who is this?”

“This is my sister, Drista.” He replied, and she gave the boy a small wave in greeting. 

“Nice to meet you, Drista!” Tubbo grabbed the door and swung it open, allowing the two of them inside.

When they stepped in, Niki looked up from the bread she was kneading and grinned. “Lovely to see you Dream! And this must be your sister?”

“Yes, my name is Drista. You must be Niki?” She smiled, and the baker nodded. 

“Have I seen you before? You look awfully familiar.” 

Dream’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten about his sister's habit of coming into town. “Oh, possibly. I like to sneak off whenever he’s not looking. Farm work is boring, and it’s even worse with this lump.” She elbowed him and Niki laughed.

“So, what can I get for you two today?” She asked after a moment, opening her arms and gesturing around the shop. “We’ve got fresh honey tarts today, and I just baked a batch of gingerbread.” 

“I want honey tarts,” Drista said, pulling out the coins and setting them on the counter. “Two for me, please.” 

“Uh, just one for me.” Dream added, and Niki nodded. 

“They’re in the back cooling down, so give me just one minute and I’ll have those out for you.” She said with a smile before walking into the hallway. The siblings stood in silence for a moment. 

“Niki’s bakery is pretty. Do you think Ma would let me start apprenticing here?” 

Dream shrugged, looking down at his sister. She was fidgeting with her dress, staring at the flower pots. “Probably not. Now stop talking about her - our Ma’s dead, remember?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Drista rolled her eyes. The door swung open and when Dream looked up he was shocked to see George, wearing a dark blue shirt and his hair messy.

Frick. Dream had forgotten that George was friends with Niki.

“Dream!” George looked surprised to see him. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in town the last few days.” 

“Uh, yeah, s-sorry, we had, uh…” Dream couldn’t think; George looked so pretty with his messy hair, and the man looked tired as well. His brown eyes were dark and curious. 

“We had farm stuff. Getting ready for harvest and whatnot.” Drista spoke up, giving her brother a glance. “I’m Drista, Dream’s younger sister. You must be George?”

“That’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Drista.” George replied, and she smiled.

An awkward silence descends upon them. Dream can’t stop himself form glancing at George, who is standing in a patch of sunlight; he looks so beautiful, and Dream hates himself for acknowledging it. 

“Here are those tarts - oh, hello George! What are you doing here?” Niki grinned wide at the sight of the others as she placed the treats on the counter. 

“I figured you could use some company. To be totally honest, I assumed Tubbo would’ve run off Tommy.”

“He hasn’t yet,” Niki rolled her eyes with a fond smile on her face. “But if you’d like to stick around, I’m sure I can find something for us to do. Unless you’d like to go with Dream and Drista?”

“Only if they’ll let me.” George replied. Before Dream could even decide if it was a good idea or not, his sister was talking.

“We’d love to have you join us!” 

Dream sighed and grabbed the tarts off the counter, bidding Niki a quick goodbye - his sister was already talking to George and leading him out of the shop. 

He jogged lightly to catch up with the two of them, and then the pace slowed down; Drista snatched her two tarts and took a bite of one. “So, George, what do you do? Are you a journeyman?” 

“I own my own candle shop, actually. I sold a few to Dream a couple of days ago. How are those working for you, by the way?” 

Dream’s mind raced. He had bought candles from George, but what had he done with them? He couldn’t even remember where he had left them. “They’re working wonderfully.” is what he said with a smile. George’s self-satisfied look is worth the lie. 

They walk through Middlesbrough, Dream listening as Drista chats with George. The two of them get along surprisingly well, and he’s a little worried at how well his sister is lying. She spins the web of their sad life of being farmers a little farther, and even goes as far as to name their cat - Patches. He wonders if he should actually get a cat. It wouldn’t hurt. 

“Dream? Dream?” Drista groaned and elbowed her brother, jolting him out of his thoughts for the second time that day. “Dream, pay attention!”

“What do you want?” Dream sighed, smiling sheepishly over her head at George. The brunet doesn’t seem phased; he’s got a small grin on his face, looking more awake than he had earlier. His hands are smoothing down his hair in an attempt to get it to lie flatter, but he’s failing.

“Can we go to the Harvest Festival? It’s in just over a fortnight. George has invited us - he said he knows some people my age, as well.” 

Dream sighs. George is still looking at him with that small grin, and he can practically hear Drista pleading for him to say yes; she had always wanted to attend the Harvest Festival, but their Ma had been adamant that it was “not the way for a lady of such high stature to attend such a distasteful celebration”. 

“I suppose we can go.” He replied, and Drista grinned wide. George nodded, and Dream pushed down the urge to stare at the other boy. 

“That’s great! I’m excited to see you two. Will you be bringing in crops, or just attending?”

“Uh, just attending.” said Dream, swinging his arms back and forth. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and there was no way their Ma didn't know they’d left. “However, I’m sorry to say that I’ve got to take Drista home. We’ve still got lots of farming to do.” 

George blinked in surprise and then nodded, stepping a little farther away. “Of course. Have a wonderful night, both of you.” The man then turned and started walking towards the apothecary. Dream watched him go, ignoring Drista’s tugging on his sleeve. 

“Why’d you send George away? I was having a good time.” She asked as they set off towards the border wall.

“I didn’t send George away. We’ve got to get home before dark. Ma’s going to be upset.” He spoke, eyes focused on a small pebble he was kicking. 

“Ma is always upset over something,” Drista muttered. Dream ignored her comment and they waved to the guards as they passed, walking towards their house. They didn’t talk, even though Dream could tell his sister wanted to ask something. She didn’t, and he was thankful. He didn’t think he could handle whatever it was she wanted to know.

~~~~~

“Where have you two been?!” 

The siblings flinched at the high-pitched shriek of their mother, who had already risen from her seat, jaw clenched and face flush with anger. Drista stepped behind her brother, fidgeting with her skirt. 

“Clay, I swear to the Gods if you’ve taken her sword fighting again I’ll have your head!” 

Drema took a deep breath and leveled his gaze. “I did take her sword fighting Ma, but only because she asked me to. If she didn’t want to I wouldn’t have taken her.” 

“You shouldn’t’ve taken her anyways! It’s not - not becoming for a lady to be off sword fighting in the woods!” their mother threw her hands in the air before whirling her gaze onto Drista, who shrunk farther behind her brother. “I am sick and tired of your need to be different. You think I don’t see you running off? You -”

“Ma, stop yelling.” Dream said, ignoring the way his voice cracked. “She’s done nothing wrong!” 

“And you!” She stepped forwards, the fireplace behind her crackling. “You think I don’t know why you have been sent home from the capitol? I understand that you’ve got urges, but there was no reason for you to get so desperate as to result in that! Did you even think about how that could reflect upon us? How many letters have I gotten, asking if the rumors are true, if you truly have been sent home in disgrace?” 

Dream’s face felt hot, and his heart was racing out of his chest and into his throat. Drista looked confused, her eyes flicking between him and their mother. His mother kept going, her finger in his face, voice thin and angry. “I know what you did in the capitol. I know how you have marred our reputation! What you did -”

“Stop!” Dream shouted. His Ma faltered, her face falling for a brief moment before turning into stone. “You have no right to speak of it.” His voice trembled. Dream couldn’t breathe. Drista was touching his arm, and it hurt, her fingers pressing against his skin. It felt like knives pushing into him. 

There was a thick silence. Dream could feel his heartbeat in his throat. The fire crackled. “I’m going to bed. I don’t want to see either of you tomorrow.” their mother said stiffly. She turned on her heel and went past them, her footsteps echoing throughout the empty house. Drista stood there, her hand still stinging his arm. Dream turned to her after a long moment. 

“You should get to sleep. It’s been a long day.” 

Drista nodded and then hesitated. “Are you alright, Clay?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Dream said. “Tomorrow I’m going into town to spend time with George, see if there’s anything about that magic boy’s whereabouts. You’ll have to stay here with Ma, and be on your best behavior.” 

“I promise.” Drista hugged her brother quickly and then raced up the stairs, living Dream alone in the parlor. He sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes and then pulling his hair up into a small ponytail. He needed a drink. He couldn’t think about him right now. Couldn’t think about anything. He turned and headed towards the cellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha what a chapter,,,,,a lot of things happened. dream backstory and lots of drista. also karl because i love his character on the SMP
> 
> next week i’m not publishing a new chapter as i’ve still not finished it and i need to focus on exams. 
> 
> i would like to say again that all of this is based of off their characters from the SMP and whatever i think works with my plot line lmao

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! kudos & comments are appreciated :) have a wonderful day/night!


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